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:UYPER    BV4811    .K89    1918 
■uyper,    Abraham, 
'o   be   near   unto 
;od   / 


Into  ($ah 


th'L. 


Eerdmans-Seyensma   Co. 

PUBLISHERS 

GRAND    RAPIDS.   MICHIGAN 

1918 


TO  BE  NEAR  UNTO  GOD 


1 

"IT  IS  GOOD  FOR  ME  TO  BE  NEAR 

UNTO  GOD." 

When  in  holy  ecstacy  the  Psalmist  sings:  '*! 
love  the  Lord,  because  He  hath  heard  my  voice 
and  my  supplication,"  he  pours  out  his  whole  soul 
in  his  song,  but  the  love  can  not  be  analyzed. 
To  have  love  for  God  is  a  different  and  a  much 
weaker  thing  than  to  be  able  to  say:  '1  love 
God."  There  is  love  for  native  land,  for  the 
beauties  of  nature  and  for  the  creations  of  art. 
From  tenderness  of  heart  we  have  love  for  suffer- 
ing humanity.  We  are  attracted  by  things  that 
are  pure,  true  and  of  good  report.  And  along  this 
hne  of  thought  almost  every  honest  soul  can  say 
that  he  has  love  for  God,  and  that  this  love 
exceeds  all  other  loves.  Because  from  him  and 
through  him  all  loveable  things  are,  and  He  is 
the  highest  good. 

Love  for  God  may  be  fine  sentiment.  It  may 
be  sincere  and  capable  of  inspiring  holy  enthu- 
siasm, while  the  soul  is  still  a  stranger  to  fellow- 
ship with  the  eternal,  and  ignorant  of  the  secret 
walk  with  God.  The  great  God  may  still  not  be 
your  God.  Your  heart  may  still  not  be  attuned  to 
the  passionate  outburst  of  delight:  I  love  the 
Lord.  For  love  of  God  in  general  is  so  largely 
love  for  the  idea  of  God.  love  for  the  Fountain  of 
life,  the  Source  of  all  good,  the  Watcher  of  Israel 
who  never  slumbers;  in  brief,  love  for  him  who, 
whatever  else  changes,  abides  the  same  eternally. 


But  when  the  heart  can  say:  I  love  the  Lord,  the 
idea  of  the  Eternal  becomes  personified.  Then  God 
becomes  the  Shepherd  who  leads  us,  the  Father 
who  spiritually  begat  us,  the  covenant-God  to 
whom  we  sustain  the  covenant  relation,  the  Friend 
who  offers  us  friendship,  the  Lord  whom  we  serve, 
the  God  of  our  trust,  who  is  no  longer  merely 
God,  but  our  God. 

For  many  years  we  may  have  had  love  for  God 
in  general  and  never  have  known  him.  He  is 
only  known  when  love  for  him  takes  on  a  per- 
sonal character;  when  w^e  meet  him  in  the  path- 
way of  life;  when  He  becomes  a  person  in  con- 
trast with  our  own;  when  we  enter  into  conscious, 
vital  and  personal  relation  with  him,  so  that  He 
is  our  Father  and  we  his  children;  not  merely  one 
of  his  children,  but  his  child  in  a  special  way,  in  a 
personal  relation  different  from  that  of  his  other 
children,  even  the  closest  relation  conceivable  in 
heaven  and  on  earth;  He,  our  Father,  our  shep- 
herd, our  bosom-friend  and  our  God. 

He  who  has  not  entered  into  this  can  not  under- 
stand it.  It  extends  farther  than  his  reach.  If, 
however,  he  is  religiously  inclined,  he  soon  real- 
izes, on  hearing  about  it,  that  if  he  might  have 
this  love,  it  would  be  sweeter  than  that  of  which 
he  is  now  conscious.  It  makes  him  feel  that  he 
lacks  something  and  so  may  arouse  in  him  a  desire 
for  it.  It  may  make  him  crave  what  would  be  so 
beautiful  to  possess.  This  craving  may  prepare 
him  for  better  things.  If  there  is  to  be  contact 
with  God,  it  proceeds  from  both  sides.  God  draws 
near  to  us,  and  we  to  him.  First  afar  off,  then 
closer  by,  until  distance  falls  away  and  we  meet 
each  other.     The  blessedness  of  this  moment  can 


never  be  told  in  words.  We  then  come  near  unto 
God,  and  this  comprises  all  the  blessedness  of 
believing. 

He  who  has  not  learned  this  secret  may  say 
with  his  lips:  It  is  good  for  me  to  hold  me  fast 
by  God  (Ps.  73:27  Prayer-Book  version),  but  he 
can  not  grasp  it.  So  he  passes  it  by  as  though  it 
meant  in  general  a  pious  frame  of  mind  apart 
from  feeling  the  burning  within  of  the  spark  of 
true  personal  love.  He  worships  God,  he  prays 
for  grace,  but  has  no  genuine  love.  But  "To  Be 
Near  Unto  God"  means  such  nearness  to  God  as 
to  see  him  with  the  eyes,  to  be  aware  of  his 
presence  in  the  heart,  to  hear  him  with  the  ear, 
and  to  have  every  barrier  removed  that  thus  far 
kept  him  aloof.  "To  Be  Near  Unto  God"  means 
to  be  near  him  in  one  of  two  ways:  either  to 
feel  as  though  we  were  caught  up  into  heaven,  or 
as  though  God  had  come  down  to  us  in  our  lone- 
liness, sorrow  or  joy.  The  very  word  "near" 
implies  that  there  is  much  that  separates  us  from 
God,  and  makes  us  solitary.  When  God  is  far 
away  from  us  and  we  from  him,  it  makes  us 
desolate.  It  also  implies  that  we  are  not  con- 
tented; that  we  can  not  endure  it;  that  our  whole 
heart  goes  out  after  him,  and  will  not  rest  until 
the  last  barrier  is  removed.  For  only  when  God 
is  near  unto  us  and  we  are  near  unto  him  is  there 
blessedness  again,  which  nothing  can  exceed,  since 
it  is  unspeakably  good  "To  Be  Near  Unto  God." 
This  exceeding  blessedness  can  only  be  enjoyed  at 
rare  moments  here,  but  in  the  life  to  come  it  shall 
endure.  For  in  the  Father's  house  above,  we  shall 
be  near  unto  God  forever  and  forever. 

The  world  ruthlessly  crosses  our  efforts  along 


this  line.  Though  it  was  not  right,  and  never  can 
be,  we  understand  what  went  on  in  the  heart  of 
those  who  sought  escape  from  the  world,  in  cell 
or  hermitage,  for  the  sake  of  unbroken  fellowship 
with  God.  It  might  have  been  efficacious,  if  in 
withdrawing  from  the  world  they  had  been  able 
to  leave  the  world  behind.  But  we  carry  it  in  our 
heart.  Wherever  we  go  it  goes  with  us.  There 
are  no  monastic  walls  so  thick,  or  places  in  forests 
so  distant,  but  Satan  has  means  to  reach  thSm. 
To  shut  oneself  out  from  the  world  moreover,  for 
the  sake  of  a  closer  walk  with  God,  is  to  seek  on 
earth  what  can  only  be  our  portion  in  heaven.  We 
may  escape  many  things  in  doing  it.  The  eye  may 
no  more  see  much  vanity.  But  existence  becomes 
abnormal.  Life  becomes  narrow.  Human  UE.ture 
is  reduced  to  small  dimensions.  There  is  no 
imperative  task  on  hand,  no  calling  in  life,  no 
exertion  of  all  one's  powers.  Conflict  is  avoided. 
Victory  tarries. 

But  "To  Be  Near  Unto  God"  in  the  midst  of 
busy  avocations  yields  its  sweetest  blessedness 
when  it  is  cultivated  in  the  face  of  sin  and  the 
world,  as  an  oasis  in  the  desert  of  life.  And  they 
whom  the  world  has  tried  in  most  cruel  ways  to 
draw  away  from  God  have  achieved  highest  honors 
and  blessings.  In  spite  of  obstacles  and  worldly 
opposition  they  continued  to  have  trysts  with 
God,  Jacob  at  Peniel,  IMoses  in  Horeb,  David 
when  Shimei  cursed  him,  Paul  when  the  people 
rose  in  uproar  against  him.  In  the  heat  of  con- 
flict "To  Be  Near  Unto  God"  is  blessed. 

And  apart  from  conflict  with  the  world,  the  flesh 
and  the  devil,  when  clouds  of  adversity  gather 
overhead,  when  the  heart  bleeds  with  wound  upon 


wound,  when  the  fig  tree  does  not  blossom,  and 
the  vine  will  yield  no  fruit,  then  with  Habakkuk 
to  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  because  His  blessed  pres- 
ence is  more  enjoyed  in  adversity  than  in  seasons 
of  material  prosperity, — this  is  the  lesson  of  his- 
tory in  all  ages. 

But  the  ways  of  the  world  are  cruel.  Its  cruel- 
ties have  assumed  finer  forms,  but  this  refinement 
has  made  them  more  intolerable.  In  former  days 
there  was  much  that  reminded  people  of  the 
sanctities  of  life,  that  made  them  think  of  higher 
things,  and  kept  eternity  before  their  eyes.  All 
this  is  mostly  gone.  In  the  busy  life  of  the  world 
today  there  is  little  to  keep  in  memory  the  things 
that  are  holy  and  eternal.  In  public  life  all 
thought  of  God  is  ignored.  In  some  places  church- 
bells  are  no  more  rung.  Few  days  of  prayer  are 
appointed.  God's  name  is  no  more  spoken.  No 
mernento  mori  any  more  reminds  us  of  death. 
Cemeteries  are  turned  into  parks.  Sacred  things 
are  scorned.  That  which  in  private  conversation 
and  in  the  public  press  gives  tone  to  theories  is 
the  delusion  that  heaven  reaches  no  higher  than 
the  stars,  that  death  ends  all,  that  life  without  God 
is  more  apt  to  bring  prosperity  than  life  in  the 
fear  of  the  Lord.  The  habit  of  doing  without  God 
in  public  life  puts  itself  as  a  stream  between  God^ 
and  the  God-fearing  soul.  To  hold  fast  by  God, 
against  the  current  of  this  stream,  takes  strong 
faith. 

This  modern  cruelty  of  the  world  offers  special 
dangers  to  our  young  people  and  children.  But 
let  us  have  courage.  All  things  are  known  to  God. 
In  tender  compassion  He  will  draw  near  to  us,  and 
to  our  dear  ones,  that  we  and  thej^  may  be  near 


unto  him.  But  in  that  case,  satisfaction  with  half 
measures  must  not  be  tolerated.  If  we  do,  vague 
love  for  a  far-away  God  will  riiore  than  ever  fail 
us.  The  free  and  untrammeled  life,  that  joj'fully 
proclaims:  I  love  the  Lord,  alone  can  save.  For 
it  does  not  remain  standing  afar  off,  but  seeks 
access  to  the  immediate  presence  of  God,  in  per- 
sonal contact  of  soul  with  the  Eternal. 


"THE  SOULS  WHICH  I  HAVE  MADE." 

There  is  a  peculiar  charm  about  the  thing  which 
we  have  made.  Not  because  of  any  intrinsic  value 
it  may  have,  but  just  because  we  have  made  it. 
The  new  beginner  at  the  art  of  portrait-painting, 
who  practices  his  art  by  copying  celebrated  orig- 
inals, will  think  more  of  his  own  copy  than  of  the 
more  excellent  original.  Flowers  which  the  young 
lad  plucks  from  his  own  little  garden  are  much 
more  interesting  to  him  than  the  boquet  from  the 
florist.  The  country  gentleman  prefers  vegetables 
from  his  own  grounds  or  hothouse,  even  if  less 
fine,  to  the  produce  imported  from  abroad.  He 
who  writes  for  the  press  deems  his  own  article, 
published  in  some  monthly  or  quarterly,  the  best 
of  the  edition.  This  holds  good  in  every  depart- 
ment of  life.  Produce  raised  ourselves  interests  us 
greatly.  Cattle  bred  on  our  own  stock  farm  is 
preferred  to  any  other.  We  are  more  happy  in  the 
house  which  we  have  built. 

Of  course,  this  implies  some  self-complacency, 
which  especially  in  youth  is  apt  to  breed  conceit. 
We  grant  that  preference  for  our  own  work  can  go 
too  far,  as  when  from  sheer  egotism  it  makes  us 


undervalue  better  works  from  other  hands.  This 
is  evident  in  mother-joy,  which  revels  in  play  with 
its  own  child,  such  as  is  impossible  in  play  with 
a  neighbor's  child.  Self-delusion  and  selfishness 
may  at  times  be  too  evident  in  this  joy  of  the 
mother  heart,  but  history  and  folklore  in  all  lands 
and  times  bear  witness  that  there  vibrates  another 
string  in  mother  love  than  that  of  selfishness,  the 
sound  of  which  can  only  be  understood  when  it  is 
recalled  that  she  bore  the  child.  The  mother  is 
conscious  of  a  part  of  her  own  life  in  that  of  her 
child.  The  two  do  not  stand  side  by  side  as 
Nos.  1  and  2,  but  the  mother-life  extends  itself 
in  that  of  her  child. 

This  trait  is  evident  in  every  product  of  our 
own,  whether  of  our  thought,  of  our  manual  labor, 
or  of  our  perseverance.  And  whether  it  is  an 
article  which  we  contributed,  or  a  house  which  we 
built,  a  piece  of  embroidery  which  we  worked,  or 
a  flower  which  we  planted,  a  hound  or  a  race- 
horse which  we  raised,  there  is  something  in  it  of 
our  own,  something  that  we  put  upon  it,  a  some- 
thing of  our  very  selves,  of  our  talent,  of  our 
invention,  which  makes  us  feel  toward  it  as  we 
never  can  feel  toward  things  which  are  not  of  our 
own  making. 

And  by  this  human  trait  God  comforts  the 
hearts  of  sinners.  This  trait  is  in  us,  because  it 
is  in  God.  Regarding  this  trait  God  declares  that 
it  operates  in  the  Divine  Fatherheart  in  our  behalf. 
For  where  there  is  a  soul  at  stake,  God  never  for- 
gets that  He  has  made  it.  "For  I  will  not  contend 
forever,  neither  will  I  be  always  wroth;  for  the 
spirit  should  fail  before  me,  and  the  souls  which 
I  have  made   (Is.  57:16).     As  little  as  a  mother 


can  allow  her  just  anger  with  the  child  of  her 
own  bosom  to  work  itself  out  to  the  end,  just  so 
little  can  God's  wrath  with  a  soul  fully  exhaust 
itself,  because  He  has  made  it.  As  a  Father  pitieth 
his  children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear 
him  (Ps.  103).  "Though  a  mother  may  forget 
her  sucking  child,  j^et  will  I  not  forget  thee"  (Is. 
49:15). 

The  Fathername  of  Grod  expresses  this  same 
comforting  thought.  It  implies  not  merely  that 
human  fathers  love,  and  that  God  loves  too,  but 
that  both  the  love  of  human  parents  and  the  love 
of  God  spring  from  the  same  source,  to-wit:  that 
God  has  created  and  made  the  soul  that  is  in  us. 
That  we  are  created  after  God's  image  implies  that 
God  is  conscious  of  the  relation  which  He  sustains 
to  us.  The  High  and  Holy  One  finds  something 
of  himself  in  us,  because  we  are  his  own  products. 
As  his  own  creatures,  we  are  objects  of  his  Divine 
interest.  There  is  something  of  God  in  the  soul, 
because  He  has  made  it.  It  bears  the  Divine 
stamp.  There  is  something  of  God's  power  in  it, 
of  his  thought  and  creative  genius,  as  there  is  in 
nothing  else.  We  are  God's  handiworks,  no  two 
of  which  are  ever  exactly  alike.  Imagine  that  we 
were  gone,  and  the  vast  collection  of  the  Lord 
would  no  more  be  complete.  From  this  the  tie 
between  God  and  the  soul  is  born,  which  makes 
each  of  us  a  star  in  his  firmament  which  the 
Father  of  Spirits  can  not  afford  to  lose.  And 
therefore  the  Lord  seeks  what  is  lost. 

An  artist  who  has  paintings  on  exhibition  in  a 
gallery  and  finds  one  of  them  gone,  can  not  rest 
until  it  has  been  traced  and  restored  to  its  place 
on   the    wall.     In   like    manner   God    misses   the 


soul  that  has  gone  astray,  because  He  has  made 
it.  The  beautiful  parables  of  the  lost  penny,  the 
lost  sheep  and  the  lost  son  sprang  in  the  mind  of 
Christ  from  the  thought  that  God  can  not  let  go 
the  works  of  his  hands.  Therefore  He  does  not 
leave  the  souls  of  sinners  indifferently  as  prey  to 
corruption.  They  are  his  handiwork.  And  this 
constitutes  the  bitterness  of  sin. 

If  on  entering  the  gallery  one  day  the  afore- 
mentioned aitist  saw  that  an  angry  intruder  had 
wantonly,  under  cover  of  night,  cut  his  paintings 
with  a  knife,  his  bitterness  of  soul  would  know  no 
bounds,  not  merely  because  these  paintings  had 
been  destroyed  as  treasures  of  art,  but  as  works  of 
his  own  hands.  This  insult  has  been  inflicted  upon 
God.  The  soul  which  He  has  made  has  been 
inwardly  torn  asunder  by  sin  and  has  become 
almost  irrecognizable.  And  as  often  as  we  yield 
to  sin,  the  soul  is  spoiled  still  further.  It  is  every 
time  the  continuance  with  uplifted  hand  of  the 
work  of  ruining  the  soul,  which  belongs  to  God, 
because  He  made  it. 

The  destruction  of  one's  own  soul,  or  of  the 
soul  of  his  children  or  of  others  by  example  or 
wilful  temptation,  is  always  the  spoiling  of  a 
Divine  work  of  art,  a  creation  of  God,  which 
wounds  him  in  his  own  handiwork,  corrupting 
the  traces  of  himself  in  it.  It  is  as  though  a  child 
is  wounded  and  slain  before  his  mother's  eyes.  It 
is  defiance  of  the  maker's  love  for  his  handiwork. 
It  is  wilfully  giving  offense,  and  grieving  the  maker 
in  his  most  sensitive  point. 

To  him,  therefore,  whose  heart  is  right,  this  say- 
ing of  the  Lord,  "The  souls  which  I  have  made," 
has   a   two-fold   meaning.     First,  the   comforting 


thought  that,  if  we  believe,  God's  anger  with  the 
~  soul  which  He  has  made  will  not  continue  to  the 
end.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  it  implies  the  help- 
'  ful  warning  that  we  should  not  poison  the  soul  by- 
continuance  in  sin,  but  that  we  should  favor  it, 
and  spare  it,  and  shield  it  from  corrupting  influ- 
ences, because  it  belongs  to  God  on  the  ground 
that  He  has  made  it.  The  confession  that  God 
created  man  after  his  own  image  does  not  exhaust 
the  fulness  of  the  thought  in  hand.  The  plummet 
goes  far  deeper.  The  saving  and  uplifting  power 
of  this  confession  is  only  felt  when  each  morning 
is  begun  anew  with  the  vivid  realization  of  the 
inspiring  thought  that  the  soul  in  us  is  a  work 
of  art,  made  by  the  High  and  Holy  One,  on  which 
his  Honor  hangs,  over  which  therefore  He  watches 
with  holy  jealousy;  and  that  we  can  not  ruin  it 
by  sm  except  as  we  commit  crime  against  that,  to 
which  God  sustains  the  peculiar  relation  of  being 
its  Author  and  Maker. 

Thus  "The  souls  which  I  have  made"  does  not 
say  anything  more,  save  that  we  should  realize 
that .  we  are  the  children  of  God ;  but  it  states  it 
in  a  more  gripping  way.  It  declares  that  he  who 
"■~  by  sin  denies  his  heavenly  Father,  violates  God's 
honor  and  grieves  the  Fatherheart. 


"RICH  IN  GOD." 

Jesus  has  appreciated  the  grave  character  of  the 
struggle  in  Jife  between  God  and  money.  It  may 
be  said  that  this  struggle  is  even  more  violent 
in  Western  lands  than  in  the  East,  where  he 
preached   and   went   about   doing   good,    because 

10 


there  the  common  necessities  of  life  are  more 
easily  procured  than  here.  The  large  part  which 
money  plays  in  life  is  too  generally  ignored.  Aside 
from  wealth  and  love  of  simplicity.,  life  unfolds 
differently  when  there  is  a  free  hand  financially 
than  when  hard  work  for  sheer  sustenance  of  self 
and  family  must  fill  the  hours  of  day.  The  con- 
centration of  every  effort  upon  making  money  may 
soon  degenerate  into  sinful  passion,  whereby  the 
money-slave  ignores  all  sense  of  honor;  although 
by  itself  it  is  natural  and  free  from  blame  that 
utmost  pains  are  taken  to  improve  financial  con- 
ditions. Only  think  of  how  much  there  is  at  stake 
in  this  matter,  as  regards  the  education  of  the 
young,  our  own  m.oral  and  spiritual  development, 
and  the  cause  of  God's  kingdom  in  the  earth. 

Money  is  a  great  power,  and  in  times  of  press- 
ing needs  the  lack  of  it  renders  one  painfully  help- 
less. Wherefore  the  influence  of  money  upon  an 
unconverted  heart  can  not  be  estimated.  When 
even  godly  people  are  caught  at  times  in  the 
snares  of  money,  what  must  be  its  banal  force 
with  those  who,  though  they  know  of  more  ideal 
aims,  have  never  made  a  definite  choice  of  God 
and  of  his  Christ.  Money  and  Satan  mingle 
freely  in  such  minds,  and  this  opens  the  way  for 
mammon.  And  though  at  first  it  may  be  tried 
to  keep  money  and  mammon  apart,  the  endeavor 
soon  proves  futile.  Money  is  a  power  in  hand. 
But  before  we  know  it,  it  soon  becomes  a  power 
over  us;  a  power  that  rules  over  us  and  draws 
us  away  ever  farther  and  farther  from  high  and 
noble  interests  and  makes  slaves  of  us  in  the 
service  of  mammon.  Jesus  foresaw  all  this.  He 
fathomed  the  disgrace  and  the  shame  of  it.  And 
11 


mov^ed  with  compassion  for  this  'gilded  slavery 
he  called  the  people  that  flocked  to  hear  him, 
from  money  back  to  God. 

This  sharp  antithesis  alone  should  inspire  us  to 
resist  the  tyranny  of  money.  When  we  are  truly 
servants  of  God,  money  will  be  a  servant  to  us. 
When,  on  the  other  hand,  we  seek  protection  in 
our  own  strength  from  the  baneful  influence  of 
money,  and  from  its  strong  temptation,  we  meet 
with  dismal  failure.  Deeming  that  we  are  our  own 
master,  we  find  that  the  power  of  money  lords 
it  over  us.  Jesus  therefore  puts  the  two  kinds  of 
riches  in  contrast  with  each  other:  riches  in  money 
and  riches  in.  God.  Not  that  one  excludes  the 
other.  If  we  are  rich  in  God,  it  is  nothing  against 
us  to  be  rich  in  worldly  goods.  For  then  we 
will  be  well  aware  of  the  fact  that  we  are  but 
stewards  of  the  Almighty,  and  money  will  serv^e 
both  us  and  God.  If  we  are  rich  in  God  and  poor 
in  earthly  possessions,  we  will  be  satisfied  and 
happy  with  the  higher  riches  of  the  soul.  But  if 
a  man  is  poor  in  God,  worldly  wealth  is  but  vain 
and  hollow  mockery.  Material  riohes  and  sensual 
pleasures  do  not  ennoble  and  refine  the  soul. 
Moreover  at  death  they  fall  away,  if  not  before, 
and  leave  the  soul  empty  and  shorn.  It  is  harder 
still  to  be  both  poor  in  God  and  in  worldly  goods. 
This  provides  nothing  for  the  enlargement  of  life; 
nothing  to  sustain  and  hold  one  up.  It  brings 
bitter  discontent  alone,  which  feeds  upon  the 
vitals  and  robs  existence,  heavily  freighted  with 
carping  care,  of  its  latest  possible  charm. 

To  understand  what  constitutes  riches  in  God, 
imagine  for  a  moment  that  all  your  earthly  riches 
had  taken  wings,  and  that  bereft  of  all  you  had. 


you  are  forgotten  by  those  who  once  knew  you.  In 
this  utter  forsakeness  of  soul  ask  yourself:  What 
have  I  left?  What  do  I  now  possess?  This  will 
be  our  state  in  the  hour  of  death.  We  will  go  into 
eternity  alone.  What  will  we  take  with  us?  We  ^ 
must  leave  money  and  houses  behind.  We  must 
part  even  from  our  body.  There  will  be  nothing 
to  us  but  the  soul,  our  spiritual  self.  Shall  we  be 
rich  then?  If  so,  it  can  only  be  in  spiritual  goods. 
When  we  die  we  are  either  rich  in  God  or  poor  in 
God.  It  will  not  do,  therefore,  to  defer  searching 
self-examination.  When  I  am  alone  with  my  soul, 
what  have  I;  what  is  there  of  me?  Does  my 
money  impart  to  me  my  worth  as  a  man,  or  am  I 
something  myself?  Are  there  treasures  stored  up 
in  my  heart?  Apart  from  all  material  interests 
has  my  personal  self  any  significance  worthy  of 
mark  in  God's  sight,  or  am  I  actually  nothing? 

Let  us  not  deceive  ourselves.  Apart  from 
covet eousness  it  is  quite  possible  to  enlarge  one's 
intellectual  equipment,  to  cultivate  the  aesthetic 
nature,  and  to  excel  in  cleverness  and  in  achieve- 
ment. All  this  has  worth  of  its  own,  and  is  not 
acquired  apart  from  God.  But  it  belongs  to  the 
life  of  this  world,  and  loses  its  significance  the 
moment  life  on  earth  fails  us.  There  remains  of 
it  only  so  much  as  has  imparted  a  higher  and 
nobler  bent  to  our  person,  and  has  established 
and  broadened  our  character  and  our  spiritual 
powers,  and  thereby  has  become  our  property, 
which  can  not  be  taken  from  us  by  either  catas- 
trophe or  death. 

And  without  more,  even  this  will  not  do.  Per- 
sonality that  is  well  developed,  character  that  is 
firmly  established,  inner  strength  of  spirit  and  of 

13 


will-power  can  be  of  use  to  us  only  when  we  can 
apply  them  to  good  and  noble  ends.  Satan  is  the 
'most  strongly  developed  personality  conceivable. 
Any  one  can  train  himself  in  sin.  Hence  the  ques- 
tion remains:  Have  we  developed  the  traits  of 
character,  and  powers  of  personality,  which  are  in 
harmony  with  the  life  of  eternal  blessedness?  If 
not,  at  death,  they  will  be  of  no  use  to  us.  Hell 
is  full  of  strongly  developed  characters  and  culti- 
vated talents.  But  they  afford  no  pleasure,  but 
rather  add  pain  to  pain,  because  it  all  goes  without 
God,  and  increases  no  riches  in  him.  Like  sets  of 
fine  sharp  tools  by  themselves,  they  are  utterly 
useless.  Thus  the  heart  can  only  speak  of  pos- 
sessions, when  such  powers  and  capacities  have 
been  so  trained  that  they  will  permit  admittance 
into  heaven,  will  make  us  feel  at  home  there,  and 
will  enable  us  to  exert  heavenly  influences  there. 

These  heavenly  properties  are  never  acquired 
save  through  fellowship  with  God.  From  God  as 
the  Source,  the  powers  of  the  Kingdom  must 
operate  in  us  that  will  entitle  us  to  heavenly 
citizenship.  In  Christ  we  must  be  reconciled  to 
God.  The  Father  must  come  and  dwell  with  us. 
For  then  the  new  life  will  be  quickened  in  us, 
which  draws  its  nourishment  from  •  heaven  and 
imparts  higher  powers,  and  fills  the  soul  with  all 
the  fullness  of  God.  Thus  to  be  rich  in  God  is 
to  own  God  himself;  to  be  a  temple  of  the  Holy 
Ghost;  to  carry  Him,  the  Holy  and  Glorious  One, 
in  the  heart  wherever  we  go;  and  every  evening 
and  every  morning  to  be  refreshed  in  the  inner 
man  at  the  fountain  of  the  Water  of  Life. 

Many  obstacles  prevent  the  full  enjoyment  of 
these  blessings  here.     But  this  is  the  privilege  of 

14 


being  rich  in  God,  that  the  more  we  become 
detached  from  the  world,  the  richer  we  become 
in  God.  And  when  at  last  the  world  shall  fade  from 
sight,  the  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight 
of  these  riches  will  unfold  itself  to  our  eyes.  For 
this  heavenly  wealth  will  not  waste,  but  ever 
increase  in  glory.  It  will  be  interest  upon  interest 
always  in  the  very  holiest  sense.  It  will  evermore 
be  the  Fountain  and  never  again  the  cistern.  It 
will  be  treasures  that  shall  always  exceed  our 
boldest  expectations,  because  they  are  centered  in 
the  Infinite. 

In  addition  to  all  this,  according  to  the  Scrip- 
ture, there  is  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light. 
The  difference  between  these  two  is  determined 
by  the  difference  between  the  inner  and  the  out- 
ward life.  The  riches  in  God  have  to  do  with  the 
inner  life  of  the  soul — already  here  in  part,  and 
presently  to  be  revealed  in  full.  To  this  inner  life 
belongs  an  outward  state.  We  do  not  have  this 
here.  It  only  comes  with  the  division  of  the 
inheritance  which  is  stored  for  us  in  heaven;  even 
the  inheritance  of  glory,  the  companionship  of  the 
saints  made  perfect,,  and  of  all  the  holy  angels. 
The  life  in  the  palace  of  God's  everlasting  Light. 
The  fruition  in  glory  such  as  here  has  never 
entered  the  heart.  No  more  sin.  No  more  sorrow. 
Eternally  in  Christ  with  God  in  fullest,  largest 
satisfaction  of  what  in  its  noblest  flush  of  anticipa- 
tion the  heart  can  expect  or  desire. 

Rich  in  God,  and  therefore  rich  through  God. 
0,  how  deeply  have  we  fallen  that  these  riches  in 
God  attract  so  few  hearts ;  and  that  they  who  have 
won   these    heav^enly   possessions   still   hunger   at 

15 


times  for  the  things  that  wean  the  soul  from  God 
and  must  needs  impoverish  it. 


"IN  THE  COVERT  OF  THY  WINGS." 

The  profoundest  question  that  governs  true 
piety  relates  to  personal  fellowship  with  God.  In 
the  Psalms,  which  are  the  most  beautiful  utter- 
ances of  a  devout  mind,  this  Divine  fellowship  is 
ever  longed  for  and  sought  after.  The  tie  is  there 
mentioned  that  binds  us  to  God  as  the  Creator 
and  Supporter  of  all  things.  The  relation  is  there 
stated,  which  he  who  fears  ther  Lord  sustains  by 
faith  to  the  Holy  One.  But  these  are  not  fellow- 
ship with  the  Eternal.  He  who  fears  the  Lord 
does  not  rest  until  he  has  entered  into  such  con- 
scious fellowship  with  Him  that  there  is  mutual 
knowledge  between  the  two.  Even  the  clear  sense 
that  God  knows  him  and  that  he  knows  God. 

What  we  call  friendly  intercourse  among  men, 
intimate  fellowship,  sympathy  of  heart  with  heart 
in  faithfulness  and  love,  is  the  meaning  of  Ps. 
25:14:  "The  secret  of  the  Lord  is  with  them  that 
fear  him;  and  he  will  show  them  his  covenant." 
As  close  friends  on  earth  go  through  life  together 
and  reveal  themselves  to  each  other,  and  in  this 
intimate  walk  become  the  conjEidants  of  each 
other's  secrets,  so  it  is  told  of  the  Old  Testament 
heroes  of  the  faith  that  "they  walked  with  God." 
And  although  these  are  but  figures  and  terms  that 
are  borrowed  from  human  experiences,  and 
although  we  ought  not  to  use  them  ourselves  when 
we  would  speak  of  our  fellowship  with  God  except 


with  greatest  reverence,  it  is  equally  sure  that  God 
has  pointed  them  out  to  us  for  this  end. 

To  picture  this  Divine  fellowship  the  Scripture 
even  borrows  figures  from  animal  life.  Jesus  illus- 
trated his  tender  love  for  Jerusalem  by  the  figure 
of  the  hen  that  gathers  her  chickens  under  her 
wings.  David  boldly  declared  before  God  that  he 
would  not  only  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord 
forever,  but  that  he  would  even  make  his  refuge 
"in  the  covert  of  God's  wings."  (Ps.  61:4.)  And 
why  not?  Did  not  God  put  this  tender  expres- 
sion of  fellowship  in  the  world  of  winged  creatures 
as  an  intimation  of  what  moves  his  own  Divine 
heart?  And  is  not  everj-  suggestive  and  touching 
instance  of  loving  fellowship  in  the  life  of  nature 
a  Divinely  given  help  to  make  clear  to  us  the 
things  which  we  observe  and  feel  or  only  dimly 
sense  in  the  mystic  depths  of  our  heart? 

But  even  the  broad  creation  fell  short  of 
material  along  this  line.  Wherefore  the  Lord  has 
put  still  another  figure  before  us  by  which  to  illus- 
trate this  intimate  fellowship  with  himself;  even 
that  of  dwelling  together  in  one  house.  For  the 
house,  or  with  nomadic  tribes  the  tent,  is  not  orig- 
inal in  the  creation,  but  is  mechanically  con- 
structed by  human  hands.  With  Jabal  mankind 
first  came  upon  this  find,  whereby  the  social  life 
of  man  took  an  incredible  step  forward.  The 
home  was  foreshadowed  in  the  creation.  Jesus 
pointed  to  the  fact  that  foxes  have  holes,  and 
birds  of  the  air  have  nests.  And  was  it  not  a  deep 
feeling  of  want  that  expressed  itself  in  the  words 
that  He,  the  Son  of  Man,  had  no  home  *  *  * 
indeed,  no  place  at  all  of  his  own  where  to  lay 
his  head? 

17 


Life  can  only  be  fully  developed  by  our  dwell- 
ing together  under  one  roof  tree.  The  family  home 
is  the  nursery  of  love.  It  is  the  outward  encircling 
with  the  tie  of  the  closer  fellowship  of  life.  Thus 
we  see  that  in  Scripture  the  house  or  tent  is  given 
us  as  an  aid,  by  which  fellowship  with  God 
assumes  a  form  and  an  outline  that  makes  it 
plain  to  us.  God  also  has  a  house.  And  the  idea 
of  dwelling  in  God's  house  beautifully  indicates 
~  the  most  intimate  and  tenderest  fellowship  with 
God.  Purposely,  therefore,  the  tabernacle  was 
constructed  in  the  wilderness.  Presently  it  was 
perpetuated  in  the  Temple  on  Mount  Zion.  It  is 
expressly  stated  that  in  Horeb  God  showed  Moses 
the  pattern  of  the  same.  Hence  the  Tabernacle 
and  the  Temple  were  a  pattern  of  what  actually 
exists  in  the  heavens. 

And  in  connection  with  this,  the  deep  longing 
is  constantly  expressed  to  be  privileged  to  dwell  in 
the  Tabernacle  of  the  Lord.  Rather  be  a  door- 
keeper in  the  house  of  God  than  dwell  in  the 
palaces  of  the  ungodly.  "One  thing  have  I  desired 
of  the  Lord,  that  will  I  seek  after;  that  I  may 
dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  all  the  days  of 
my  life ;  to  behold  the  beauty  of  the  Lord,  and  to 
enquire  in  his  temple."  (Ps.  27:4.) 

Tabernacle  and  Temple,  however,  were  not  per- 
manent. They  only  served  for  a  time.  In  the 
broad  development  of  the  life  of  faith  they  were 
transitory.  When  Jesus  had  come,  it  was  said: 
"Woman,  the  hour  cometh,  and  now  is,  when  ye 
shall  neither  in  this  mountain,  nor  yet  at  Jeru- 
salem, worship  the  Father,  but  when  the  true 
worshippers  shall  worship  the  Father  in  spirit  and 

18 


m  truth  (John  4:21).  This  means  worship  with- 
out symbols,  without  outward  forms,  directly 
spiritually,  from  heart  to  heart.  If  then  we  are  in 
sympathy  with  David's  ardent  longing  to  dwell  in 
the  house  of  the  Lord,  we  must  no  longer  apply 
this  to  an  earthly  house  or  visible  church.  For 
this  only  brings  us  back  to  the  dispensation  of 
shadows.  The  temple  of  God  is  no  more  an 
allegorical  house  of  wood  and  stone,  but  the  great 
palace  of  our  God  in  the  heavens.  For  heaven  is 
God's  dwelling  place.  There  is  the  palace  of  his 
glory,  the  Tabernacle  of  his  Majesty.  When  Jesus 
teaches  us  to  pray:  "Our  Father,  who  art  in 
heaven,"  he  detaches  the  soul  from  every  material 
thing,  and  lifts  the  heart  on  high,  in  order  that 
we  should  no  more  think  of  the  Majesty  of  God 
in  terms  of  earth. 

To  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  all  the  days 
of  our  life  means  to  be  so  vividly  conscious  of  our 
fellowship  with  the  living  God  that  every  morn- 
ing, noon  and  night  our  thoughts  go  out  to  Him, 
that  we  hear  his  voice  in  the  soul,  that  we  are 
aware  of  his  holy  Presence  within,  experience  his 
workings  in  our  heart  and  in  our  conscience,  and 
that  we  carefully  avoid  the  things  which  we  would 
not  dare  to  do  if  God  stood  before  us  and  spoke 
to  us. 

The  Psalmist  goes  still  one  step  further,  whereby 
he  clearly  shows  that  through  the  shadows,  the 
faithful  under  the  Old  Covenant  grasped  the 
higher  reality.  For  he  adds:  "I  will  make  my 
refuge  under  the  covert  of  Thy  wings."  It  is  not 
enough  to  think  of  God's  glory  in  the  heavens,  to 
dwell    in    his   holy    temple,   to   walk   among    the 


angels  and  the  saints,  who  stand  before  the  Lord. 
God's  house  will  afford  the  opportunity  for  fellow- 
ship with  him,  but  in  it  we  will  look  for  God  him- 
self. One  must  live  with  a  person  in  his  house  in 
order  to  enjoy  his  company  to  the  full.  But  the 
house  without  him  is  nothing.  He  himself 
is  the  first  interest  there.  Such  is  the  case  in 
our  search  after  fellowship  with  God.  Sursum 
Corda.  Lift  up  your  hearts.  I  will  lift  up  my 
heart  to  the  trysting-place  of  thy  holiness. 

Even  this  is  not  enough,  nor  ever  can  be.  To 
find  God  we  must  dwell  in  his  house.  But  there 
"To  Be  Near  Unto  God"  is  the  sole  end  and  aim  of 
all  godly  desire  and  endeavor.  To  give  vent  to 
this  passionate  longing  David  boldly  exclaims:  ''I 
will  make  my  refuge  in  the  covert  of  Thy  wings." 
This  is  communion  of  spirit  with  Spirit.  It 
involves  the  sacred  touch.  To  perceive  and  to 
feel,  to  discover  and  to  experience  that  nothing 
separates  us  any  more  from  the  Lord;  that  his 
arms  are  around  us,  and  that  as  it  were  we  cleave 
unto  God. 

This  is  holy  ground.  It  is  not  free  from  dan- 
gers. Misapprehension  can  interpret  this  figura- 
tive language  literall}^,  and  in  an  unholy  sense 
materialize  our  Spiritual  God.  False  mysticism 
has  shown  what  errors  it  may  entail.  Provided, 
therefore,  that  we  are  on  our  guard,  this  figure 
is  aboundingly  rich  and  supremely  glorious.  To 
possess  God,  and  to  have  made  fellowship  with 
him  a  realitj'  in  life  is  beautiful,  provided  that  it 
always  is  in  Christ.  We,  impure  and  unholy,  are 
brought  by  our  Savior  alone,  into  this  tender  com- 
munion with  God. 

20 


HE  WILL  REGARD  PRAYER. 

Does  the  Lord  regard  prayer  only  after  long 
delay?  Is  He  not  omnipresent?  Is  not  the  whis- 
pered prayer  known  to  Him  before  there  is  yet 
a  word  in  the  tongue?  Can  the  All-Knowing  One 
first  stand  apart,  indifferently  as  it  were,  and  only 
gradually  perceive  that  we  pray,  before  he  regards 
what  at  first  he  ignores? 

Such  is  the  meaning  of  verses  16  and  17  of 
Psalm  102.  The  Psalmist  stands  outside  a  closed 
door.  Out  of  the  depth  his  prayer  ascends.  But 
the  thorn  in  the  flesh  is  not  removed.  The  Lord 
does  not  hear  his  prayer.  And  the  Arch-enemy, 
who  does  not  pray,  and  who  does  not  know  God, 
is  encouraged  by  Jehovah.  God's  covenant  people 
are  repulsed.  God  hides  his  face.  And  the 
Psalmist  cries:  "Hear  my  prayer,  0  Lord,  and 
from  me.  In  the  day  when  I  call  answer  me 
speedil}'. 

This  brings  relief  to  his  troubled  mind.  With 
prophetic  insight  he  anticipates  the  day  when  the 
Lord  will  hear  the  prayer  of  his  people,  and 
inspired  by  this  thought  he  exclaims:  "When  the 
Lord  will  regard  the  prayer  of  the  destitute,  and 
not  despise  their  prayer,  then  shall  all  the  kings 
of  the  earth  fear  him." 

Thus  the  Psalmist  v%-as  still  in  that  period  in 
which  the  Lord  held  himself  deaf  to  his  people, 
and  in  which  the  moment  tarried  when  he  would 
regard  their  prayer.  And  do  you  think  that  the 
Psalmist  did  not  feel  and  know  the  objections 
that  are  suggested  by  the  nature  of  the  Divine 
Being   against   this  human  representation?     And 

21 


are  we  so  far  his  superior  that  the  thoughts  which 
arise  in  us  were  foreign  to  him?  Who  has  ever 
outlined  God's  omnipresence  and  omniscience  in 
terms  of  finer  poetic  imagery  than  he?  Are  not  the 
expressions  in  which  we  clothe  our  prayers  for  the 
most  part  borrowed  from  his  writing?  Did  not 
he  propound  the  question:  "Shall  he  who  planted 
the  ear,  not  hear?"  And  did  not  he  confess  in 
Ps.  139:  "There  is  not  a  word  in  my  tongue,  but, 
lo,  0  Lord,  Thou  knowest  it  altogether.  Thou 
hast  beset  me  behind  and  before.  Such  knowledge 
is  too  wonderful  for  me ;  it  is  high,  I  can  not  attain 
unto  it." 

The  Psalmist  has  described  the  Divine  virtues 
in  behalf  of  the  saints  of  all  ages,  and  the 
mysteries  of  the  Divine  Being  are  nowhere  more 
clearly  set  forth  than  in  the  language  of  his  songs. 
And  when  this  eminently-saintly  man  frequently 
speaks  of  God — also  with  reference  to  this  matter 
of  prayer — in  this  simple,  human  way,  what  can  it 
mean,  save  that  the  confidential  terms  of  intimate 
human  fellowship  have  the  same  significance  in 
the  secret  walk  with  God.  And  that  there  are 
moments  when  God  disregards  our  prayers,  but 
which,  praise  his  name,  are  succeeded  by  other 
moments  in  which  He  does  regard  them? 

You  believe  in  Christ.  You  believe  that  his 
saying  is  true:  "He  that  hath  seen  Me,  has  seen 
the  Father;  and  how  saj^est  thou  then,  Show  us 
the  Father?"  On  bended  knee  j^ou  cum  ess  mm  as 
your  Lord  and  your  God.  But  what  is  the  incar- 
nation of  the  word  except  that  God  became  man? 
And  what  profit  can  this  be  to  j^ou,  unless  you 
realize  that  in  Christ  God  has  come  close  to  j^ou 
in  a  human  way? 


Before  the  days  of  the  Bethlehem  birth  God 
spoke  to  us  in  the  human  word,  but  in  Christ  God 
is  manifest  in  human  nature.  He  reveals  himself 
to  us  as  the  son  of  Man.  A  human  heart  speaks 
here  in  human  language  and  in  human  ways.  As 
the  Apostle  John  asserts:  In  Jesus  they  have  not 
only  seen  and  heard  what  is  God's,  but  have 
touched,  that  is  they  have  handled  with  their 
hands,  and  have  actually  seen  before  their  eyes 
the  eternal — Godlike  in  human  manifestation  and 
in  human  form.  Hence  the  whole  Christian  faith 
and  Christian  confession  rests  upon  the  clear  and 
firm  conviction  that  God  has  not  willed  himselt 
to  be  lost  to  us  in  endless  abstractions,  but  that 
in  our  human  nature,  in  human  form  and  in  human 
language  he  comes  to  us  ever  more  closely,  in 
order  through  the  medium  of  our  human  heart  to 
establish  affectionate  and  full  fellowship  with  us. 

Our  Lord  Jesus  makes  no  high-sounding, 
abstract  statements  of  the  infinite  in  the  Eternal, 
but  shows  us  God  as  our  Father,  and  calls  us  to 
be  his  children,  and  with  childlike  confidence,  in 
a  childlike  way,  and  with  childlike  intimacy  to 
have  fellowship  with  him.  Let  it  be  distinctly 
understood  that  this  rests  on  sober  reality.  That 
this  is  not  mere  semblance  but  actual  fact,  since 
God  created  us  after  his  image.  That  thus,  in 
the  face  of  a  broad  difference.  Divine  reality  is 
expressed  in  the  human.  And  that,  when  the  Word 
became  flesh,  the  fact  that  the  Son  of  God  became 
Man,  is  directly  connected  with  our  creation  after 
God's  image. 

Would  we  undo  all  this,  and  create  a  distance 
between  us  and  God  which  would  exclude  all  per- 
sonal  fellowship,  by  putting  a  whole  system  of 

23 


abstract  ideas  about  the  immensities  of  God  in 
the  place  of  this  heart-to-heart  intimacy  which 
can  not  be  cultivated  with  God  except  in  a  human 
^way?  Let  us  leave  this  to  philosophers  who  do 
not  pray,  and  to  theologians  dry-as-dust  who  are 
not  children  of  their  Father  in  heaven.  But  as 
for  us,  let  us  love  God  with  a  devotion  which 
can  only  express  itself  in  childlike  fellowship  with 
him. 

Moreover,  in  the  practice  of  prayer  we  fre- 
quently observe  that  experience  confirms  the  word 
of  the  Psalmist.  At  one  time  the  heavens  are  open 
to  us,  and  as  we  pray,  angels  descend  and  ascend 
to  bring  our  petitions  to  the  throne  of  grace.  While 
at  other  times  our  prayers  are  faint,  our  words 
bound  back  as  it  were  upon  ourselves  and  every 
door  of  approach  to  God  is  closed  up  against  us. 
At  one  time  there  will  be  an  immediate  hearing 
and  a  direct  answering,  and  at  another  time  we 
feel  ourselves  immured  and  thrown  back  upon  our- 
selves, and  it  seems  that  there  is  no  living  God  to 
hear  us.  And  when  the  turn  of  the  tide  sets  in, 
and  we  perceive  that  the  gate  of  heaven  reopens, 
and  we  feel  that  our  prayer  obtains  free  access  to 
the  throne  of  the  Almighty,  then  we  understand 
from  our  own  experience  what  the  Psalmist  wrote 
about  the  blessedness  of  the  moment  in  which  the 
Lord  regarded  again  the  prayer  of  the  soul  that 
was  destitute. 

Is  now  the  solution  of  this  apparent  contradic- 
tion as  impossible  as  it  seems?  By  no  means; 
provided  we  have  eA^es  to  observe  the  part  which 
God  plays  in  our  prayer-life.  When  we  deem 
~that  prayer  is  original  with  ourselves;  when  we  do 
not  believe  that  the  spirit  of  prayer  goes  out  in  us 


from  God,  and  we  imagine  that  God's  part  in 
our  prayer  only  begins  when  he  hears  and  answers 
it,  then  indeed  we  face  an  insoluble  riddle. 

But  if  we  take  it  in  the  other,  truer  way,  and 
make  it  clear  to  our  mind  that  God  has  quickened 
our  prayer-life  and  that  he  directs  and  carries  it, 
the  matter  gleams  with  light.  The  farmer  sows 
the  seed  in  the  newly-ploughed  furrows  and  leaves 
it  alone  to  do  its  work,  and  only  returns  to  the 
field  when  the  dew  of  heaven  and  sunshine  have 
caused  the  seed  to  sprout  and  to  send  the  blade 
upward,  and  the  corn  to  ripen  in  the  ear,  that  he 
might  gather  the  harvest. 

And  such  is  the  case  in  our  prayer-life.  Our 
Father  who  is  in  heaven  begins  it  by  sowing  the 
seed  of  prayer  in  our  hearts.  And  then  follows 
a  slow  process.  The  praj'er-life  must  develop  in 
us.  Praj-er  must  ripen  in  the  soul.  And  only  when 
this  result  has  been  obtained,  and  our  prayer  has 
unfolded  itself  in  that  higher  form,  does  the 
heavenly  Husbandman  regard  the  prayer-life  in  us 
and  enrich  it  with  abounding  answers. 

Such  is  the  case  with  our  prayer-life  taken  as  a 
whole.  Through  foolish  petitions  we  arrive  at 
purified  prayers.  Through  earthly  prayers  we 
come  to  those  holier  petitions  which  have  been 
watered  with  the  dew  of  heaven,  and  which  scin- 
tillate with  light  from  higher  spheres  than  ours. 
But  such  is  the  case  also  with  our  individual 
prayers.  These,  too,  are  not  unfolded  and  ripened 
at  once.  They  also  undergo  a  process  in  the  soul. 
They  also  spring  from  a  root  and  only  by  degrees 
develop  themselves  into  prayers  such  as  the  Father 
in  heaven  expects  from  his  children.  Prayers 
which  are  not  merely  sounds  in  the  lips  but  which 

25 


rise  from  the  depths  of  the  heart.  Prayers  which 
fully  harmonize  with  our  own  desires  and  inclina- 
tions. Prayers  in  which  not  merely  a  passing 
thought,  but  the  whole  person  expresses  himself. 
Prayers  in  which  the  soul  truly  pours  itself  out 
before  the  Holy  One. 

God  allows  us  time  for  this.  It  can  not  be  at 
once.  If  he  interfered  at  once  no  prayer-life  could 
be  developed  in  us,  and  no  single  prayer  could  be 
sanctified  in  us.  Weeds  that  grow  between  our 
prayers  must  first  be  rooted  out.  Every  infectuous 
insect  that  crept  in  must  be  destroyed.  Prayer 
must  refine  itself  and  sanctify  itself  and  in  a 
heavenly  sense  through  faith  must  be  able  to 
mature.  And  therefore  he  leaves  us  to  ourselves 
for  a  time  that  through  the  fiery  trial  gold  may 
proceed  from  the  ore. 

And  when  at  length  our  prayers  are  sufficiently 
purified  to  be  laid  upon  the  Altar  of  the  Almighty, 
then  he  will  regard  them  again.  And  we  will 
thank  our  Father  in  heaven  that  he  has  brought 
us  to  the  holy  school  of  prayer. 


"HEARKEN    UNTO    ME,    MY   PEOPLE." 
'GIVE  HEED  TO  ME,  O  LORD." 

At  one  time  it  was  thought  that  sound  came 
from  the  throat,  that  its  power  was  limited,  and 
that  it  could  only  make  our  word  intelligible  at 
short  distances.  No  one  could  hear  us,  nor  we 
him,  from  a  greater  distance  than  our  voice  could 
carry.  When  there  was  anything  to  say,  messen- 
gers were  sent   to   carry   it.     When  writing  was 

26 


invented,  communications  were  carried  by  letters. 

All  this,  however,  is  changed.  By  this  time  it 
is  understood  that  the  throat  has  no  sound  of  its 
own,  but  merely  enables  us  to  occasion  vibrations 
in  the  air.  And  that  these  vibrations  find  an 
artistic  instrument  in  the  listening  ear  to  receive 
them.  T\Tien  we  speak  we  transmit  our  thoughts 
in  these  vibrations.  They  glide  along  air-waves  to 
the  ear  of  him  who  listens.  And  through  the  ear 
they  wake  the  self-same  thoughts  in  him. 

Such  is  our  speech.  But  this  was  not  enough. 
It  was  discovered  that  apart  from  voice  and  ear, 
communication  could  be  established  at  far  greater 
distances  through  electricity.  This  was  first  done 
by  means  of  visible  signs,  and  thus  the  telegraph 
originated.  But  later  it  was  found  that  a  similar 
contact  of  throat  upon  the  ear  could  be  obtained 
by  means  of  an  extended  metal  thread.  This  dis- 
covery gave  us  the  telephone.  And  at  length  we 
have  advanced  still  further  and  intelligible  com- 
munication is  achieved  independently  by  itself 
through  the  air,  and  at  distances  of  two  or  three 
thousand  miles  without  telegraph  or  telephone 
wires,  thoughts  have  been  exchanged. 

In  this  wise  things  have  become  realities  which 
at  one  time  were  entirely  unthinkable.  And  he 
who  considers  how  quickly  these  ever-more  won- 
derful inventions  have  succeeded  one  another  con- 
jectures that  still  more  can  be  expected  and  that 
playing  with  and  listening  to  each  other  at  incred- 
ible distances  will  sooner  or  later  be  the  common 
good. 

This  is  an  aid  to  faith.  That  the  Lord  is  simul- 
taneously "a  God  at  hand"  and  "a  God  afar  off" 
(Jer.  23:23)  expresses  in  the  language  of  prophecy 

27 


that  there  are  no  distances  with  God;  and  that 
he  can  speak  to  us  and  can  hsten  to  our  voice, 
even  though  heaven  is  his  throne  and  we  kneel 
here  on  earth.  ,Yea,  even  when  we  whisper  our 
prayer  under  breath,  so  that  he  who  stands  by  our 
side  can  not  hear  it.  And  faith  had  no  other 
explanation  for  this  than  the  question:  ''Shall  he 
who  planted  the  ear  not  hear?  Shall  he  who 
formed  the  voice  not  speak?"  The  confession  was 
accepted  that  God  is  everywhere  present.  And 
this  consisted  in  the  fact  that  he  is  the  All- 
Knowing  One.  But  there  was  nothing  in  this  to 
support  and  to  carry  the  imagination. 

All  this  has  changed.  Now  that  it  is  possible  for 
us  with  all  our  human  limitations  to  extend  our 
voice  from  city  to  city  and  to  make  ourselves 
intelligible  to  one  another;  now  that  we  can 
exchange  thought  at  a  distance  of  many  thousands 
of  miles  without  wires  or  any  such  thing ;  now  that 
the  impression  is  general  that  this  is  but  the 
beginning  of  an  inter-communication  which  shall 
be  developed  still  more,  we  can  imagine  how  com- 
munication can  extend  itself  at  length  without 
limit,  and  how  the  Lord  our  God  who  is  the  creator 
of  all  these  means,  and  has  them  at  his  disposal, 
can  from  the  Throne  of  his  glory  look  down  upon 
us  and  can  whisper  to  us  in  the  soul.  And  how, 
on  the  other  hand  also,  when  our  voice,  however 
weak,  goes  out  to  him  in  supplication,  it  can  be 
heard  by  him.  As  regards  the  life  of  glory 
among  the  saints  in  light  it  is  ever  more  clear  that 
communion  shall  not  only  be  possible  from  time 
to  time  with  a  few,  but  that  when  once  the  lim- 
itations of  this  life  shall  fall  away  and  glory  shall 
begin,   intimate   communion  shall   be   possible   at 

28 


one  and  the  same  time  among  and  with  all  the 
redeemed  of  the  Lord. 

But  even  then  it  will  all  be  the  expression  and 
the  working  out  of  the  fact  of  our- creation  after 
the  Divine  image.  It  will  not  be  just  in  the  same 
way  in  which  God  communes  with  us,  but  it  will 
be  communion  in  a  similar  way. 

That  we  ourselves  can  speak  with  our  fellow 
men  at  such  incredible  distances,  brings  us  nearer 
to  God  in  our  prayer,  and  brings  God  nearer  to 
us  when  he  speaks  to  us.  And  the  "Hearken  unto 
me,  my  people,"  followed  by  the  prayer:  "Give 
heed  to  me,  0  Lord,"  is  more  real  to  us  than 
before. 

There  is  still  another  phase  in  our  secret  walk 
with  God,  which  we  may  call  the  phase  of  holy 
rapture.  It  springs  from  the  indwelling  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  in  us.  As  often  as  this  indwelling 
operates  there  is  no  distance.  Then  the  Lord 
speaks  to  us  in  the  inner-chamber  of  the  heart. 
Then  we  perceive  his  sacred  presence  not  afar  off 
but  at  hand.  And  our  speaking  to  God  is  the 
confidential  whisper  as  in  the  ear.  Such  is  the 
case  at  the  cool  of  the  day  when  the  peace 
"which  passeth  human  knowing"  takes  possession 
of  the  heart  and  the  sweet  joy  of  being  God's 
child  transports  us  into  holy  ecstacy. 

But  we  can  not  deal  with  this  now.  We  have  in 
mind  the  man  who  believes,  but  who  through  sin 
and  trial  has  lost  in  part  the  sense  of  being  a 
child  of  God,  and  finds  himself  distant  from  Ck>d. 
Such  spiritual  conditions  occur  frequently  with 
those  who  are  most  saintly.  Then  it  seems  that 
at  first  God  does  not  hear  us,  and  as  though  we 

29 


must  entreat  the  Lord  to  listen  again  to  the  voice 
of  our  supplications. 

"Give  heed,  to  me,  O  Lord,"  is  the  cry  of  him 
who  feels  that  God  has  paid  no  attention  to  his 
prayer.  In  the  same  way  when  by  Isaiah  God 
says:  ''Hearken  unto  me,  my  people,"  it  implies 
that  at  first  the  people  gave  no  heed  to  the  speak- 
ing of  the  Lord.  Hence  both  belong  to  the  phase 
of  temporary  estrangement,  when  communion 
between  the  soul  and  God  has  been  broken  by 
sorrow  or  by  sin.  Then  the  means  of  communica- 
tion must  be  connected  again.  Then  in  the  par- 
lance of  the  telephone  God  rings  us  up,  and  we 
ring  up  God,  and  thus  the  broken  connection  is 
restored.  Union  with  God,  fellowship  with  the 
Eternal,  is  the  great  sanctifying  and  protecting 
power  which  holds  us  up  in  the  midst  of  all  sorrow 
and  trials.  Not  that  we  are  apart  here  on  earth 
below  and  that  in  our  thoughts  God  is  confined 
to  heaven  above,  so  that  we  can  remember  him 
on  our  knees  but  a  few  moments  everj'  day,  but 
constant,  unbroken  fellowship  with  Our  Father 
who  is  in  heaven  is  the  secret  of  the  power  of 
childlike  faith. 

This  was  easier  in  earlier  times  when  life  was 
less  hurried  and  less  busy.  At  present  life  is  a 
great  strain  on  the  nerves.  It  continually  over- 
whelms us  with  new  impressions  and  sensations, 
so  that  the  quiet  collecting  of  the  soul  before  God 
is  ever  less  frequent.  And  it  is  chiefly  because  of 
this  that  in  these,  our  days,  the  secret  walk  with 
God  suffers  loss. 

But  for  this  very  reason  the  new  inventions  of 
communication  and  interchange  of  thought  pro- 
vide a  counterpoise.     For  they  come  to  the  help 

30 


of  our  imagination  and  impart  more  reality  than 
before  to  our  effort  to  restore  the  broken  connec- 
tion. And  thus  the  finds  of  science  become  sup- 
ports to  our  piety.  They  help  us  to  hearken  unto 
God,  and  our  prayer,  "0  Lord,  give  heed  to  me 
and  hear  the  voice  of  my  supplication,"  borrows 
strength  from  them  in  our  approach  to  the  throne 
of  grace. 

7 

"THAT  WmCH  I  SEE  NOT,  TEACH 
THOU  ME." 

The  knowledge  that  we  have  of  ourselves  dif- 
fers according  to  its  source.  We  have  acquired  a 
part  of  it  ourselves,  another  part  we  have  received 
from  God.  When  it  is  asked  in  what  particular 
these  two  parts  of  self-knowledge  differ,  call  to 
mind  that  as  a  rule  we  faithfully  record  the  good 
there  is  in  us,  while  for  the  most  part  we  must- 
have  the  evil  that  is  in  us  pointed  out  to  us  and 
brought  to  our  remembrance  by  God. 

A  child  can  understand  this.     When  praise  is^ 
offered,  it  is  readily  accepted.    But  a  child  resists' 
blame.    He  is  not  conscious  of  wrong  and  lightly 
passes  it  by.    And  he  continues  in  this  course  until 
the  conscience  is  awakened  and  God  teaches  him 
to  become  humble. 

In  later  life  this  goes  on  more  covertly.  In 
reality,  however,  conditions  remain  the  same.  The 
heart  is  not  carried  on  the  sleeve  as  in  childhood 
years.  Some  people  succeed  in  hiding  their  inner 
life  from  the  eyes  of  others.  No  sooner,  however, 
is  the  personal  life  disclosed  to  the  ear  of  a  friend 
but  the  same  result  follows.  A  part  of  our  self- 
knowledge  we  have  acquired  ourselves.    The  other 


part  we  have  ignored,  until  through  bitter  experi- 
ence it  has  been  taught  us  by  God.  This  differ- 
ence is  at  times  strikingly  evident.  For,  as  a  rule, 
we  do  not  only  fail  of  seeking  instruction  in 
matters  of  conscience,  but  resist  the  same  when 
it  is  offered,  and  only  consent  to  it  when  in  the 
providence  of  God  it  is  forced  upon  us.  In  many 
instances  God  is  obliged — we  say  it  reverently 
to  force  this  self-knowledge  upon  people  all  their 
lives.  They  simply  will  not  learn  it  and  in  every 
way  they  seek  to  forget  what  God  shows  them 
of  themselves. 

But  there  are  men  and  women  who  in  all 
honesty  seek  a  clear  knowledge  of  themselves  and 
who  desire  nothing  more  earnestly  than  to  know 
the  truth  regarding  themselves.  Nathaniels,  who 
do  not  invite  but  shun  flattery;  who  despise  the 
false  image  which  they  see  of  themselves  in  the 
glass,  and  who  can  not  rest  until  they  know 
themselves  as  thej^  truly  are.  When  God  speaks 
to  them  in  the  conscience  they  lend  him  a  willing 
ear.  They  realize  that  God's  lesson  in  the  con- 
science is  a  warning,  and  they  do  not  fail  to  profit 
by  it.  Now  let  higher,  spiritual  grace  be  added 
to  this,  and  the  gains  will  still  be  greater.  Not 
only  will  they  lend  willing  ears  to  listen  when  God 
speaks,  but  they  will  also  study  the  lessons  which 
God  tries  to  impart  to  the  conscience  and  attain 
the  high,  spiritual  level  of  the  pregnant  prayer: 
"That  which  I  do  not  see  and  discover  in  myself, 
teach  Thou  me,  0  my  God"  (Job  34:32). 

These  two  parts  of  human  knowledge  are  abroad 
everywhere.  All  through  life  there  is  a  part  of 
knowledge  which  we  acquire  ourselves  and  a  part 
which  God  brings  us.    To  see  is  to  observe,  and 

32 


ordinarily  we  call  the  first  part  of  our  knowledge 
that  which  is  acquired  by  observation.  By  the 
side  of  this  there  is  another  part  of  knowledge 
which  man  would  never  have  acquired  of  himself, 
and  which  God  has  taught  him.  This  character- 
izes human  knowledge  in  general.  Everywhere 
and  in  all  ages  man  observes,  gains  experience, 
investigates  and  enlarges  the  scope  of  his  finds, 
and  in  this  way,  among  all  nations,  arrives  at 
certain  knowledge  of  nature  and  of  life,  and  turns 
it  into  profit.  In  this  process  one  nation  excels 
another  in  keener  sight  and  finer  hearing,  in 
greater  powers  of  invention  and  perseverance,  and 
consequently  makes  greater  strides  in  develop- 
ment. But  in  the  main  all  knowledge  is  alike.  It 
is  founded  upon  that  what  man  sees.  It  is 
acquired  by  observation.  It  is  developed  by 
studious  thought.  Such  is  the  case  with  the  great 
inventions,  in  which  there  is  always  something 
mysterious;  inventions  which,  though  no  one  sur- 
mises it  at  first,  disclose  to  us  almost  entirely  new 
domains  of  knowledge,  which  unbelief  attributes 
to  chance,  but  which  he  who  believes  gratefully 
interprets  from  the  Divine  appointment.  Thus 
aside  from  the  knowledge  that  is  obtained  through 
what  w^e  see,  another  knowledge  comes  to  us 
because  God  imparts  it  to  us. 

High  ideals,  moreover,  whether  in  individuals 
or  nations,  form  the  strongest  possible  motives 
that  inspire  the  search  after  knowledge  and  truth. 
He  who  has  no  sense  of  ideals  may  seek  material 
knowledge,  but  the  knowledge  of  higher  things  in 
human  life  leaves  him  cold  and  indifferent.  A 
money-wolf  is  an  adept  in  the  knowledge  that 
promises   gain,   but   what   does   he    care   for   the 

33 


higher  knowledge  of  the  nobler  elements  of  human 
hfe?  Just  as  little  as  a  deaf  man  cares  for  a 
"Bach,  or  a  blind  man  for  the  works  of  art  by  a 
Raphael  or  Rembrandt,  x^d  what  apphes  to  indi- 
viduals applies  to  nations.  When  nations  fail  of 
ideals,  they  degenerate  into  materialism  and  sen- 
sualism, and  shut  themselves  off  from  the  higher 
life.  They  make  no  progress  themselves  and  can 
not  influence  other  nations  for  the  better.  Indeed, 
they  retrograde  and  drag  other  nations  down  with 
themselves.  This  can  differ  in  one  age  from 
another  with  the  same  people.  In  the  sixteenth 
century  the  Netherlands  fostered  high  ideals,  and 
exerted  noble  and  inspiring  influences  upon  all  of 
Western  Europe.  In  the  eighteenth  century  they 
degenerated  and  carried  no  blessing  to  other 
nations  in  any  sense. 

And  whether  a  nation  is  swayed  by  high  ideals, 
depends  on  God.  When  he  sends  forth  the  breath 
of  nobler  aims  and  purposes  upon  a  people,  desires 
are  quickened  after  the  higher  ends  of  life,  and 
people  are  lifted  up  by  the  knowledge  of  nobler 
human  existence.  When  he  takes  that  breath 
away,  the  understanding  is  dulled,  and  all  nobler 
knowledge  fails.  In  an  ideal  sense  God  can  draw 
a  people  to  himself  and  impart  something  of  his 
own  Divine  life  to  it.  And  He  can  withdraw  and 
leave  a  people  alone  to  its  own  hurt.  In  the  latter 
case  the  loss  of  higher  and  nobler  knowledge  is 
inexorable.  And  so  we  arrive  at  the  same  result. 
By  seeing  and  observing,  a  part  of  our  knowledge 
is  in  our  own  power.  But  the  part  of  higher  and 
nobler  knowledge  God  alone  can  impart. 

As  we  apply  this  to  ourselves  we  see  at  once 
that  this  Divinely-imparted  knowledge  comes  by 

34 


no  means  exclusively  through  the  conscience. 
Upon  a  far  broader  scale  some  of  it  comes  from 
the  Divine  counsel,  and  some  from  the  relation 
which  he  establishes  between  himself  and  us.  We 
are  born  of  our  parents  and  we  find  many  things 
in  ourselves  that  remind  us  of  them.  But  the 
formation  of  our  person,  disposition,  temper  and 
leading  inclination  are  his  work.  When  we  dis- 
cover in  ourselves  a  thirst  after  higher  knowledge,  -- 
and  a  susceptibility  to  nobler  ends,  the  impulse 
born  from  this  is  a  work  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in 
the  soul.  The  results  of  the  knowledge  which  we 
have  thus  acquired  are  not  obtained  by  observa- 
tion, but  by  virtue  of  the  higher  impulse  which  he 
quickens  and  maintains  in  us. 

Circumstances  pla}^  a  part  in  this.  We  may 
have  a  friend  whose  nobleness  of  character  becomes 
an  inspiration.  We  may  go  through  certain  experi- 
ences, and  meet  cultivated  and  interesting  people 
who  stimulate  us  to  court  higher  lines  of  thought. 
We  may  have  important  duties  laid  upon  us,  high 
responsibilities,  or  bitter  griefs,  wliich  advance  us 
to  more  than  ordinary  heights.  And  again,  it 
is  God  alone  who  disposes  all  these  things  in  our 
behalf.  But  above  everything  else  we  can  feel 
the  beginnings  of  a  strong  drawing  of  God  in  our 
hearts  when  he  leaves  us  no  rest  and  weans  us 
from  earthly  vanities,  and  mystically  inspires  us 
with  a  sense  of  necessity  which  compels  us  to  take 
deeper  interests  in  the  higher  things  of  life  and 
makes  us  grow  and  expand  in  them  with  continual 
refreshings.     And  if  this  is  so,  it  is  not  we  who 

have  raised  ourselves  up  to  God,  but  it  is  God 

who  has  raised  us  up  to  heavenly  places  with  him- 
self.    This   mercy   may  have  been  shown  to   us 

35 


and  not  to  some  others.  And  why?  This  is  a 
mysteiy  which  we  can  not  grasp.  But  the  fact 
remains.  We  have  two  kinds  of  knowledge. 
Aside  from  that  which  is  acquired  by  sight  and 
observation,  there  is  that  other  and  higher  knowl- 
edge which  comes  to  us  from  God. 

This  knowledge  unfolds  most  beautifully  in  the 
soul  that  is  subject  to  grace.  Not  every  regen- 
erate child  of  God  advances  to  great  heights  of 
learning.  Some  devout  souls  lack  almost  every 
power  of  entering  into  the  mysteries  of  the  higher 
life.  Some  cultivaie  riiysticism  along  emotional 
lines,  but  continue  devoid  of  knowledge.  Others 
learn  a  great  deal  of  the  way  of  salvation,  but 
cultivate  little  interest  in  the  higher  and  nobler 
knowledge  of  human  life.  There  are  still  others, 
and  this  is  most  glorious,  who  are  warm  of  heart 
and  of  a  deep  mystical  nature,  and  of  clear 
insight  into  the  way  of  Salvation,  who,  in  addition 
to  all  this,  reach  the  inner  unfoldings,  by  which 
their  knowledge  is  extended  to  those  nobler  parts 
of  human  understanding,  which  make  them  not 
merely  deeply  religious,  but  men  of  high  ideals. 

Such  people  stand  on  the  top  of  the  mountain 
of  God's  holiness.  A  light  above  the  light  of  the 
sun  dawns  on  their  horizon.  Their  knowledge 
becomes  that  of  the  saints  made  perfect.  They 
are  most  deeply  conscious  of  their  entire  depend- 
ence upon  God  and  of  their  longing  for  ever 
larger  knowledge  of  him  and  of  themselves.  And 
this,  their  thirst,  can  only  express  itself  in  the 
prayer:  0  my  God,  aside  from  what  I  see  and 
discover  myself,  teach  Thou  me.  Instruct  me 
ever  more  in  holy  fellowship  with  Thee. 


''SONGS  IN  THE  NIGHT." 

Night  is  a  mj^stery.  For  most  people  sleep  is  a 
going  out  from  life,  in  order,  in  the  course  of 
seven  or  eight  hours,  to  come  back  to  it.  When 
they  fall  asleep,  they  are  gone.  And  when  the 
hour-hand  on  the  dial  points,  say  some  seven  or 
more  hours  further  on,  they  arise  and  resume  their 
part  in  life.  There  is  at  most  an  occasional 
remembrance  of  a  dream,  but  for  the  rest  it  is  all 
a  blank.  A  third  part  of  life  is  spent  in  sleep.  At 
thirty  years  of  age  a  man  has  practically  lived 
but  twenty.  The  remaining  ten  years  have  passed 
away  in  unconsciousness. 

But  sleep  serves  a  purpose.  We  retire  weary 
in  body  and  mind  and  with  new  strength  we  arise. 
As  far  as  we  know,  we  were  inactive  in  sleep.  We 
did  not  think,  nor  observ'e,  nor  will,  nor  work. 
This  entire  cessation  of  activity  is  the  real 
ordinance  of  night.  As  long  as  we  are  in  health 
and  in  full  possession  of  our  powers,  and  not  over- 
burdened with  cares,  we  sleep,  undisturbed  by  out- 
ward things,  in  this  way  and  in  no  other. 

WTiy  this  has  been  so  ordained,  we  do  not  know. 
For  though  we  say  that  we  become  weary  through 
work,  that  our  strength  is  exhausted  and  demands 
rest  to  recuperate,  it  means  nothing.  For  at  once 
we  ask:  WTiy  this  exhaustion  of  strength?  He, 
after  whose  Image  we  are  created,  never  wearies. 
The  heavenly  hosts  of  angels  do  not  sleep.  Of 
the  new  Jerusalem  we  read:  ''There  shall  be  no 
more  night."  We  can  imagine  a  being,  who  does 
not  exhaust  his  strength  and  therefore  needs  no 
sleep.     Why  God  appointed  life  for  us  with  the 

37 


continual  exhaustion  of  its  powers  and  their 
restoration  by  sleep  remains  a  secret.  But  though 
no  one  understands  it,  this  Divine  ordinance  has 
not  gone  forth  without  a  purpose  and  a  wise  dis- 
posal. Does  not  the  Scripture  say  that  in  the 
night  our  reins  instruct  us,  and  does  not  this 
impart  an  higher  significance  to  sleep?  Undoubt- 
edly such  was  the  case  with  David.  But  this  is 
by  no  means  an  ordinary  experience.  And  even  if 
this  were  the  case,  yet  for  the  sake  of  spiritual 
instruction  in  the  soul,  this  regularly  returning 
period  of  seven  long  hours  would  be  out  of  all 
proportion.  Only  think  how  large  a  part  of  the 
day  it  is^irom  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  until 
four  in  the  afternoon.  And  yet  it  comprises  but 
seven  hours,  and  these  we  sleep  away  out  of  every 
twenty-four. 

This  is  modified  bj^  sickness,  by  pressing  cares 
or  old  age,  three  causes  which  either  shorten,  dis- 
turb or  delay  sleep,  so  that  a  part  of  the  night  is 
sleepless.  By  either  of  these  causes  night  obtains 
a  different  significance,  but  only  because  sleep  can 
not  be  courted,  or  is  too  much  interrupted  or  too 
early  ended.  Hence  dreams  are  not  without  some 
significance.  Dreams  can  discover  us  to  ourselves. 
They  can  suggest  helpful  thoughts  of  life.  They 
can  afford  us  moments  of  fellowship  with  our  dead, 
which  gives  us  melancholy  delight.  God  can 
reveal  something  to  us  in  dreams.  In  spite  of  all 
this,  most  dreams  are  forgotten  on  waking.  And 
when  at  rare  times  they  leave  a  memory,  nothing 
but  vague,  vanishing  and  mixed  images  float  before 
the  mind.  Even  the  petition  from  the  old  evening 
.  song,  "In  sleeping  let  me  wait  on  Thee;  in  dreams 

38 


be  Thou  my  joy,"  does  not  determirie,  save  in 
rarest  instances,  the  content  of  our  dreams. 

This  does  not  deny,  however,  that  without  our 
knowing  it,  and  even  while  we  sleep  the  Spirit  of 
God  ministers  to  our  spirit  and  builds  up  our 
inner  life.  Also,  in  connection  with  this,  the 
mystery  of  our  existence  by  night  includes  certain 
effective  ministries  of  God.  But  we  can  not  deal 
with  them,  because  they  go  on  in  our  uncon- 
sciousness. At  times,  on  awaking,  we  may  be  able 
to  solve  certain  difficulties  which  troubled  us  the 
night  before,  and  he  who  fears  the  Lord  will  thank 
him  for  this.  But  even  then  it  is  always  a  work  of 
God,  which  we  do  not  understand,  and  of  which 
we  can  only  say  with  the  Psalmist  (118:23),  "This 
is  the  Lord's  doing.    It  is  marvelous  in  our  eyes." 

Our  existence  by  night  only  obtains  a  conscious 
significance  when,  through  sickness,  care  or  old 
age  our  sleep  is  broken.  With  respect  to  this  the 
Scripture  declares:  "In  the  night  our  reins 
instruct  us."  Says  the  Psalmist  (77:6),  In  the 
night  I  commune  with  mine  own  heart.  Isaiah 
adds  (26:9),  With  my  soul  have  I  desired  Thee 
in  the  night.  And  Job  declares  (35:10),  God  is 
my  Maker,  who  giveth  songs  in  the  night.  This 
provides  a  school  of  learning  which  we  should 
take  more  seriously  into  account.  Sleeplessness 
is  a  trying  experience,  which  affects  all  of  the  next 
day.  But  it  is  a  discipline  which  leads  either  to 
sin  or  to  glory.  It  all  depends  upon  the  manner 
in  which  these  sleepless  hours  are  spent.  If  wake- 
fulness leads  to  nothing  but  gloomy  and  peevish 
complaint  by  day  and  to  a  rebellious  turning  over 
of  self  on  the  bed  by  night,  it  works  sin.  But 
when    such    sleepless    hours    are    spent    in    the 

39 


endeavor  to  confirm  and  make  more  real  the  fel- 
lowship with  God,  the  inner  life  of  the  soul  is 
strengthened  and  upbuilt.  Moreover,  such  godly- 
motions  are  medicine  against  sleeplessness  itself, 
while  rebellious  restlessness  fosters  and  prolongs 
it.  To  fight  God  in  such  an  hour  makes  restless- 
ness, it  gives  rise  to  feelings  of  oppression  and 
renders  sleep  more  and  more  impossible.  While 
fellowship  with  God  at  such  a  time  brings  rest  and 
calm  to  troubled  minds  and  sleep  to  weary  eye- 
lids. 

But  this  is  only  a  by-product.  The  main  point 
is  that  a  sleepless  night  is  the  time  in  which  to 
seek  the  Lord,  and  to  test  the  word  of  the 
Psalmist:  "It  is  good  for  me  to  hold  me  fast  by 
God."  The  strenuous  activities  of  life,  the  con- 
stant noise  on  every  side,  and  the  absorbing  occu- 
pations of  the  mind  by  day,  hold  us  off  and 
estrange  us  from  God.  But  in  the  quiet  hours  of 
night  nothing  at  all  diverts  us.  The  darkness  is 
restful  to  the  eyes.  The  stillness  of  night  puts 
the  ear  on  the  retired  list.  No  work  of  any  sort 
engages  us.  Hurry  has  given  place  to  calm. 
Nothing,  indeed,  diverts.  There  is  no  one  near 
to  trouble  us  or  to  detain  us.  All  the  conditions 
are  there  for  undisturbed  fellowship  with  God. 
Such  hours  of  night  invite  us,  more  than  any  other, 
to  enter  into  the  sanctuary  of  the  Most  High. 
The  midnight  watch  has  something  of  Sabbath 
stillness  about  it,  which  is  inaugurated  by  the 
evening  reading  of  God's  Word,  and  by  the  even- 
ing prayer,  when  on  bended  knees  the  soul  was 
poured  out  before  God.  At  length  we  are  at  rest. 
And  now  the  cares  and  anxieties  of  the  day  must 
either  be  resolutely  put  aside  or  we  must  enter 


upon  such  close  fellowsliip  with  God  that  he 
carries  them  for  us. 

All  this,  however,  is  not  entirely  in  our  own 
hands.  It  is  not  enough  that  we  think  of  God 
and  make  our  approach  to  him.  Communion  pro- 
ceeds from  both  sides.  Unless  God  draAvs  near  to 
us,  we  can  have  no  close  fellowship  with  him. 
To  think:  God  is  ever  ready  to  wait  on  me,  it 
merely  depends  upon  me  whether  or  not  I  will 
meet  him,  does  not  indicate  sufficient  humility 
or  sense  of  dependence.  Thinking  of  God  is  not 
fellowship  with  God.  True  fellowship  is  far  more 
devout  and  far  more  intimately  personal.  And  as 
often  as  w^e  have  true  fellowship  with  God,  it  is 
a  grace  and  a  benefit  for  which  we  owe  him  thanks. 
It  is  not  that  we  are  so  good  and  so  devout  as  to 
lift  up  our  heart  unto  God.  But  it  is  rather 
Divine  Compassion  that  condescends  to  us  to  bless 
us  and  to  make  us  rich  with  the  experience  of  his 
presence. 

If  before  sleep  the  latest  feeling  is  one  of  delight 
in  the  tenderness  of  the  Lord,  and  if  the  first  con- 
scious thought  on  aw^aking  in  the  morning  of 
itself  goes  out  after  God,  the  gain  is  very  great. 
This  makes  us  to  be  accustomed  to  God,  and  pre- 
pares us  for  the  night  of  the  grave,  when  there 
shall  be  no  more  interruption  in  our  fellowship 
with  him. 

At  night,  on  our  beds,  when  we  can  not  sleep, 
we  feel  our  helplessness.  Much  more  so,  indeed, 
than  when  by  day  garments  adorn  our  person, 
when  our  word  makes  our  influence  a  power  and 
when  we  labor  to  make  or  maintain  our  position 
in  life.  We  lie  prostrate  on  our  bed  and  stand 
no  longer  upright.    We  are  well  nigh  motionless. 

41 


And  this  very  insignificance  of  our  appearance  there 
renders  us  but  the  more  fit  to  meet  our  Lord. 

And  then  God  becomes  great  to  us.  We  reahze 
his  saying  that  he  is  Our  Maker.  His  faithful- 
nesses present  themselves  to  us.  The  arms  of 
everlastmg  compassion  support  and  encircle  us. 
Sadness  of  heart  gives  place  to  joy.  Anxious 
thoughts  become  calm  and  glad.  The  soul 
becomes  attuned  to  the  worship  of  the  eternal 
love  of  God.  And  when  his  Holy  Spirit  thus 
ministers  to  our  spiritual  needs  and  imparts  his 
quickening  touch,  the  hymn  of  praise  rises  from 
the  heart  and  with  us  it  is  literal  fact  that  God, 
our  Maker,  giveth  us  songs  in  the  night. 

'T  CRY,  BUT  THOU  HEAREST  NOT." 

To  get  no  hearing,  as  one  stands  at  the  closed 
door,  and  it  is  not  opened,  makes  one  anxious. 
He  then  knocks  harder,  and  when  this  brings  no 
reply,  he  calls,  and  calls  louder  and  louder.  And 
when  still  no  sound  is  heard,  and  there  comes  no 
answering  voice,  fear  strikes  the  heart  lest  some 
accident  has  befallen  child  or  brother  whom  he 
knows  is  near. 

To  get  no  hearing,  when  in  distress  one  has 
called  for  help,  and  has  waited  and  waited  for  a 
response  and  it  did  not  come,  how  often  has  it 
turned  courage  into  dismay. 

To  get  no  hearing  1  What  restlessness  it  brings 
when  fear  is  harbored  whether  it  is  well  with 
child,  or  brother  far  off,  and  one  writes  and 
wTites  again,  and  no  reply  follows,  and  a  telegram 
is  sent  with  prepayment  for  an  answer  and  no 
answer  comes. 

To  get  no  hearing!     It  makes  the  heart  faint 

42 


when  a  beloved  member  of  the  household  is 
seriously  ill  and  we  approach  the  bedside  and  call 
the  beloved  by  name,  in  a  whisper  first,  and  then 
louder,  till  we  find  that  the  patient  does  not 
hear  us. 

To  get  no  hearing !  It  is  overwhelming  m  cases 
of  accident  in  mines  or  with  a  landslide  in  digging 
trenches,  when  victims  are,  as  it  were,  buried 
alive,  and  one  calls  and  calls  again,  and  listens 
with  bated  breath  for  some  sound  or  answering 
sign  of  life,  and  silence  continues  unbroken. 

To  get  no  hearing!  It  caused  such  an^dous 
forebodings  when,  not  many  years  ago,  Martinique 
was  overturned  by  an  earthquake  and  telegrams 
were  sent  to  the  place  of  disaster  to  enquire  after 
conditions  of  things  there  and  no  telegraphic 
signal  was  returned. 

The  prophets  of  Baal  experienced  this  tense 
anxiety  on  Mount  Carmel  when,  "from  morning 
even  until  noon"  they  cried:  0,  Baal,  hear  us. 
And  they  leaped  upon  the  Altar  *  *  *  and  cut 
themselves  *  *  *  with  knives  and  lancets  *  *  * 
but  lo !  there  was  no  voice,  nor  any  that  answered. 
(I.  Ki.  18:26).  And  greater  anxiety  still  filled  the 
hearts  of  the  prophets  of  Baal  when  Elijah,  from 
his  side,  cried  out:  ''Hear  me,  0  Lord,  hear  me," 
and  obtained  the  coveted  answer,  and  "the  fire  of 
the  Lord  consumed  the  sacrifice." 

But  the  saints  of  God  in  the  earth  have  not 
alwaj's  been  similarlv  favored.  Read  the  com- 
plaint of  Asaph  in  Psalm  83:  "0,  God,  keep  not 
thou  silence;  hold  not  thy  peace— as  one  deaf— 
and  be  not  still,  0  God."  Or  consider  David's 
distress  which  he  voices  in  Psalm  28:  "Unto  thee 
will  I  cry,  0  Lord  my  rock;  be  not  silent^ — or  as 

43 


one  deaf — to  me ;  lest  if  thou  make  as  though  thou 
hearest  not,  I  become  like  them  that  go  down  into 
the  pit."  And  what  is  stronger  still,  call  to  mind 
the  Lama  Sabachtani  of  Golgotha,  echo  of  the 
prophetic  complaint  of  Psalm  22:  ''0  my  God,  I 
cry  in'the  daytime,  but  thou  hearest  not;  and  in 
the  night  season  also  I  take  no  rest." 

And  this  is  the  difference  between  the  religious 
man  of  the  world  and  the  devout  believer  on 
God.  We  have  nothing  to  say  of  the  man  of  the 
world  pure  and  simple.  He  does  not  pray  at  all. 
He  never  cries  to  God,  and  never  expects  an 
answer.  But  the  people  of  the  world  are  not  all 
like  this.  Many  are  not  wholly  irreligious.  They 
still  observe  religious  forms.  They  have  not 
wholly  abandoned  prayer.  It  is  mostly,  it  is  true, 
a  mere  matter  of  habit.  To  say  grace  at  the  table 
before  one  eats,  a  so-called  ''blessing,"  which 
consists  mainly  of  a  ''whisper,"  and  upon  retiring 
at  night  a  short  prayer  of  thanksgiving  and  sup- 
plication. This  kind  of  prayer  is  revived  in  daj's 
of  trouble,  and  in  moments  of  anxiety,  .when  a 
loved  one  at  home  is  sick  unto  death,  or  reverses 
in  business  bring  a  man  low.  Then  the  religious 
man  or  woman  of  the  world  prays  and  calls.  And 
when  prayer  brings  no  help,  and  danger  is  not 
averted,  and  no  answer  is  granted,  the  seemingly 
futile  prayer  falls  heavily  back  upon  the  heart 
embittered  by  disappointment. 

The  case  is  altogether  different  with  the  devout 
believer  on  God.  The  saintly  man  of  prayer  seeks 
his  Father.  From  experience  he  knows  that  it  is 
possible  here  on  earth  to  hold  communion  with 
the  Father  who  is  in  heaven.  He  has  confident 
assurance    of    the    hidden    fellowship    with    God. 


Along  the  pathwaj'  of  life,  which  is  sometimes 
rough  and  thorny,  he  knows  what  it  is  to  "Walk 
with  God."  Blessed  experience  has  taught  liim 
that  in  this  secret  fellowship  communion  is 
mutual,  so  that  he  seeks  his  Father,  but  also  that 
the  Father  gives  himself  to  be  found  of  his 
child.  In  such  moments  he  can  not  say:  God 
is  here  or  there,  for  he  feels  and  perceives  that 
God  is  with  him.  He  can  not  prove  that  God 
talks  to  him,  and  j-et  he  hears  the  voice  of  the 
Lord.  This  is  not  seemingly,  but  actually  true. 
It  is  no  self-deception,  but  rich  reality.  And  he 
follows  after  the  good  shepherd,  comforted  by  the 
staff  and  the  rod  whithersoever  they  lead.  With 
the  religious  man  of  the  world  it  is  mere  form, 
devoid  of  heart.  With  the  devout  believer  on 
God  it  is  sacred,  blessed  mysticism. 

There  is  discipline  in  this  holy  mysticism.  Fel- 
lowship with  God  is  not  only  broken  once  in  a 
while,  but  frequently.  Once  there  was  no  repre- 
sentation of  invisible  communication.  But  now 
there  is.  since  we  are  in  touch  with  people  thou- 
sands of  miles  away  from  us.  Xow  we  can  speak 
with  others  whose  faces  we  can  not  see,  but  whose 
voice  we  receive  in  return.  So  far  have  we 
advanced  that  telegraphy  permits  communication 
without  wire  or  any  visible,  tangible  guidance. 
And  now  we  understand  how  this  communication 
can  be  disturbed,  interrupted  and  sometimes  alto- 
gether broken. 

God's  saints  on  earth  have  such  mystical  com- 
munication with  their  Father  who  is  in  heaven. 
They  have  a  mystical  telegraph,  a  mystical  tele- 
phone, a  mystical  means  of  communication  with- 
out wire  or  any  material  appliance.    And  as  little 

45 


as  a  primitive  man  can  understand  our  telegraphic 
communication,  so  little  can  the  man  of  the  world 
imderstand  the  mystical  fellowship  of  the  earnest 
believer  on  God  with  the  Heavenly  Father,  who  is 
both  far  off  and  close  by.  And  the  believer  on 
God  understands  how  this  fellowship  can  be  inter- 
rupted, and  even  entirely  broken  off.  For  there 
are  times  when  the  soul  calls  and  seeks  God,  and 
nothing  comes  back;  when  no  sign  from  above  is 
vouchsafed;  when  it  seems  that  God  is  lost;  when 
everything  remains  silent;  when  no  voice  comes 
and  no  answer. 

Why  God  withdraws  himself  at  such  times  can 
be  surmised,  but  can  never  be  fathomed.  The  cry 
from  the  cross:  "My  God,  my  God,  why  hast 
thou  forsaken  me?"  holds  us  face  to  face  with  an 
impenetrable  mystery.  But  even  here  surmisals 
maj^  serve  an  end.  We  awake  in  the  morning  and 
our  first  thought  is  of  God.  This  gives  us  the 
blessed  sense  of  God's  nearness,  and  as  at  the 
hand  of  God,  we  begin  the  day.  But  some  other 
morning  this  is  different.  We  perceive  nothing  of 
God.  Our  heart  is  not  joined  to  the  Eternal. 
Pray  as  we  may,  there  is  no  fellowship.  0  God! 
hold  not  thyself  as  one  deaf;  why  dost  thou  not 
hear  me?  But  religion  operates.  The  loss  of 
Divine  fellowship  makes  us  ver>'  unhappy.  Some 
sinful  inclination  of  the  heart  has  caused  it.  Some 
secret  sin  has  prevented  it.  The  heart  has  been 
troubled  about  many  things  that  have  excluded 
the  Lord  from  the  inner  life.  And  the  loss  of  fel- 
lowship is  good.  It  makes  us  examine  ourselves. 
It  makes  us  unite  the  heart  again  to  fear  his 
name. 

Bodily    conditions,   too,   may   interrupt   Divine 


communion.  A  headache  may  depress  us  and 
prevent  the  mind  from  free  utterance,  or  lessen 
our  sensitiveness.  This  also  may  act  as  a  spur 
to  give  the  body  rest  and  calm  in  behalf  of  fel- 
lowship with  God. 

At  times,  hovv'ever,  the  failure  of  obtaining  a 
Divine  hearing  can  not  be  explained  from  one 
cause  or  from  another.  We  find  nothing  that 
accuses  us.  And  yet  God  withdraws  himself  from 
us.  But  even  then  conjectures  regarding  the  cause 
do  not  fail  us.  The  believer  on  God  sometimes 
overestimates  his  piety.  He  enters  upon  terms  of 
familiarity  with  the  love  of  God.  He  loses  sight 
of  the  distance  that  extends  between  him  and  God. 
He  takes  it  as  a  matter  of  course,  as  a  something 
that  ought  to  be,  that  fellowship  with  God  is  his 
portion.  He  even  counts  it  at  times  as  a  mark  of  ,- 
special  holiness  that  he  seeks  Divine  fellowship. 

This  can  not  be  permitted.  It  makes  common 
what  is,  and  always  will  be,  holy  grace.  Experi- 
ence teaches  at  such  times  that  nothing  strengthens 
and  deepens  the  appreciation  of  fellowship  with 
God  as  the  temporary  want  of  it.  When  for  long 
times  the  soul  has  had  no  hearing,  and  when  at 
length  an  answer  comes  from  God,  there  enters 
into  this  secret  communion  a  still  deeper  blessed- 
ness, and  the  soul  bathes  itself  in  the  fulness  of 
the  love  of  God. 

10 

'SEEK  YE  MY  FACE." 
It  was  common  at  one  time  for  Christian  people 
to  speak  of  their  conversion  with  joyous  pride.  It 
was  said:  '"At  such  and  such  a  time  I  came  to 
know  the  Lord."  Afterward  this  was  changed. 
Then  it  was  said:     'Tn  such  and  such  a  way  I 

47 


came  to  know  nwself,"  or,  ''I  was  converted  then 
and  there;"  or,  "Then  and  there  I  gave  myself  to 
Christ;"  "In  this  wa}'  or  in  that  I  found  my 
Savior."  And  in  whatever  way  it  was  expressed, 
it  always  meant  the  narrative  of  personal  relig- 
ious experience. 

Every  form  of  expression  has  its  own  value.  It 
can  scarcely  be  denied,  however,  that  the  older 
way  of  saying,  'T  have  come  to  know  the  Lord," 
is  in  nowise  less  accurate,  profound  and  fervent 
than  the  later  ones.  Jesus  himself  declared :  "And 
this  is  life  eternal,  that  they  might  know  Thee 
(John  17:3).  and  in  saying  this  he  confirmed  the 
complaint  of  Hosea  (4:1)  that  "there  is  no  knowl- 
edge of  God  in  the  land." 

It  must  be  granted,  however,  that  with  the  lapse 
of  time  the  sa5'ing,  "I  have  learned  to  know  the 
Lord,"  has  not  proved  satisfactory,  because  it  has 
come  to  mean  intellectual  and  doctrinal  knowl- 
edge of  God,  apart  from  its  mystical  background. 
For  this  knowledge  of  God  has  more  than  one 
significance.  He  who  knows  nothing  of  the  Divine 
Being,  attributes  and  works,  can  not  be  said  to 
know  the  Lord.  But  neither  can  he  be  said  to 
know  him,  who  has  not  learned  to  worship  him 
in  his  Holy  Trinity.  In  connection  with  this, 
moreover,  the  saj'ing  of  our  Redeemer  should 
never  be  lost  from  sight:  "No  man  knoweth  the 
Father,  save  the  Son,  and  he  to  whom  the  Son 
will  reveal  him  (Matth.  11:27).  This  revelation 
must  include,  without  doubt,  the  light  that  shines 
forth  upon  us  from  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ. 

But  as  readily  as  this  is  granted,  it  is  maintained 
with  equal  emphasis,  that  this  does  not  constitute 
the  whole  knowledge  of  God.    True  knowledge  of 

48 


God  includes  a  spiritual  reality  which  far  exceeds 
mere  intellectual  acumen,  and  which  merely 
employs  the  abstractions  of  dogma  and  doctrine 
as  means  by  which  to  clarify  impressions  that  are 
received  and  to  explain  sensations  of  soul  and 
inner  experiences.  And  this  has  gradually  been 
forgotten.  Knowledge  of  God  in  the  abstract  has 
been  retained.  It  has  come  to  consist  largely  of 
the  studies  of  formal  and  doctrinal  expositions. 
And  the  man  who  can  most  cleverly  explain  some 
point  of  dogma  is  deemed  to  be  best  grounded  in 
knowledge  of  the  Lord. 

This  could  not  permanently  satisfy.  And  so  the 
experience  of  grace  in  the  heart  has  gone  over 
into  the  other  extreme  and  mysticism  has  begun 
to  interpret  religion  altogether,  or  nearly  so,  from 
the  work  of  redemption  by  Christ,  in  connection, 
of  course,  with  personal  experience  of  grace.  This 
was  undoubtedly^  a  partial  gain.  This  inward  state 
of  soul  warmly  delights  itself  in  the  work  of 
Christ's  redemption,  and  glories  in  the  way  of 
salvation  and  is  far  better  than  a  kind  of  Chris- 
tianity that  merely  weaves  webs  for  itself  out  of 
doctrinal  intricacies. 

But  this  is  not  yet  the  highest.  The  oldtime 
worthies  were  far  more  correct  when  they  inter- 
preted the  knowledge  of  God  to  be  both  doctrinal 
and  mystical.  At  this  viewpoint  God  himself 
was  always  the  central  object  of  interest  and 
religion  (i.  e.  the  service  of  God)  came  to  be 
better  understood.  As  we  have  been  created  after 
God's  Image,  it  is  only  natural  and  indeed  neces- 
sary, that  in  relation  to  God,  our  experiences 
should  be  as  nearly  as  possible  like  those  which 
we  have  in  our  relation  of  man  to  man. 

49 


There  is  language  in  nature  and  in  the  animal 
world.  But  human  language  is  altogether  different 
and  far  richer,  even  though  no  word  is  spoken. 
The  countenance  speaks;  it  speaks  through  the 
facial  expression,  but  particularly  through  and  by 
the  eye.  Through  the  eye,  as  a  window  of  the 
body,  we  look  into  a  man's  soul.  And  through  the 
eye  he  steps  forth  from  his  soul  to  look  upon, 
examine  and  address  us.  Compared  with  the  face 
the  rest  of  the  body  is  dumb  and  inanimate. 
Charms,  indeed,  are  also  effected  by  the  hand.  In 
Southern  lands  it  is  customary  to  accompany  and 
emphasize  every  word  with  gesticulations.  In 
moments  of  great  excitement  the  whole  body  for- 
sooth is  tense  and  expressive  of  emotion.  Ail  this, 
however,  does  not  deny  that  the  farther  one 
advances  in  culture  and  self-control,  the  more 
calm  and  composed  the  rest  of  the  body  remains 
in  order  that  the  face  may  speak.  For  thereby 
the  expression  of  the  countenance  becomes  far 
nobler  and  much  finer,  A  rough  fellow  in  the 
street  speaks  with  both  hands  and  feet.  A  king 
from  his  throne  speaks  with  his  look  and  majesty 
of  face. 

From  this  it  necessarily  followed  that  in  our 
speech  regarding  our  relation  to  God,  "the  face  of 
God"  appeared  in  the  foreground,  and  that  dis- 
tinctions were  made  in  that  face  between  what 
proceeded  out  of  his  mouth,  what  was  expressed 
by  his  eyes,  and  what  breathes  in  anger  from 
his  nose.  In  the  nobler  sense  we  disclose  our- 
selves by  meeting  each  other  face  to  face.  Hence 
of  human  fellowship  with  God  it  could  not  be  said 
otherwise  than  that  the  highest  form  of  it  is  to 
meet  God  face  to  face. 

50 


This  can  not  be  taken  in  a  material  sense. 
Temptation  leads  to  this  and  the  Divine  Father 
has  been  pictured  in  the  form  of  an  old  man.  Even 
Moses  went  astray  in  this  direction  when  he 
prayed  for  a  sight  of  God's  face.  It  was  a  bold 
prayer.  It  brought  this  answer:  "Thou  canst 
not  see  my  face,  for  there  shall  no  man  see  Me 
and  live"  (Exod.  33:20).  This,  then,  is  impos- 
sible. We  should  never  think  of  our  Holy  God 
in  an  earthly  way.  The  metaphorical  language 
which  is  our  only  point  of  support  in  this  matter, 
remains  enveloped  in  mystical  darkness.  A 
visible  face  only  accompanies  what  is  corporeal. 
God  is  Spirit.  Hence  no  physical  features  can  be 
attributed  to  Him.  In  fact,  when  we  look  anj'-one 
in  the  face  so  intently  as  at  length  to  grasp,  as  it 
were,  his  inner  self,  the  external  face  is  but  the 
means  by  which  we  obtain  knowledge  of  his  inner 
existence.  It  can  be  imagined  in  the  last  instance 
that  all  outwardness  may  fall  away  and  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  person  still  be  retained.  But  it  is  dif- 
ferent with  God.  Physical  means  do  not  come  in 
between  him  and  us.  Only  as  God's  Spirit  enters 
into  us  can  our  spirit  enter  immediately  into  the 
spirituality  of  God.  As  a  result  we  obtain  an 
equally  vivid,  and  even  a  better,  spiritual  knowl- 
edge of  the  Existence,  Being  and  Nature  of  God. 
Hence  we  only  use  figurative  language  that  we 
might  explain  this  knowledge. 

The  main  point  is  that  we  should  no  longer  be 
satisfied  with  an  idea  of  God,  and  a  scientific 
knowledge  of  God,  but  that  we  should  come  into 
touch  with  God  himself,  so  that  there  is  personal 
contact  vdth.  him,  as  in  and  by  our  daily  life  he 
discloses  himself  to  us,  and  personal  relationship  is 

51 


established  between  the  Living  God  and  our  soul. 
The  Scripture  expresses  this  mystical  knowledge 
of  God  in  various  ways.  It  speaks  of  the  ''secret 
walk  with  God,"  of  ''dwelling  in  the  House  of  the 
Lord,"  of  "walking  with  God."  And  the  Gospel 
develops  this  into  the  rich  and  glorious  thought 
that  "The  Father  comes  and  tabernacles  with  us." 
But  the  most  commonlj^  used  term  for  this  higher 
knowledge  is:  "The  face  of  God."  The  highest 
tribute  that  distinguishes  Moses  from  all  the 
prophets  is  that  God  "spoke  with  him  face  to 
face  as  a  man  speaketh  with  his  friend."  The 
meaning  of  "face"  in  this  connection  shows  itself. 
Hence  when  in  Scripture  the  Lord  meets  us 
with  the  exhortation,  "Seek  ye  my  face,"  it  is 
deeply  significant.  We  can  see  a  person  afar  off, 
we  can  hear  from  him,  we  can  become  conscious 
that  he  is  near  by  without  having  yet  gone  to  him 
or  having  yet  placed  ourselves  before  him,  so  that 
he  looks  at  us  and  we  at  him.  So  there  are  times 
in  the  life  of  the  Christian  when  he  feels  impelled 
to  have  no  rest  until  he  finds  God;  until,  after  he 
has  found  Him,  he  has  placed  himself  before  Him ; 
and  standing  before  Him,  seeks  His  face,  and  does 
not  cease  until  he  has  met  God's  eyes,  and  the 
consciousness  dawns  full  and  clear  that  God  looks 
him  in  the  soul,  and  that  he  looks  God  in  the 
eye  of  Grace.  When  this  comes  to  pass,  the  mys- 
tery of  grace  discloses  itself. 
11 
"MY  SOLITARY  ONE." 

When  we  consider  how  solitude  affects  people, 
it  may  well  be  taken  as  a  standard  by  which  to 
estimate  them.     This  is  shown  most  strikingly  in 


the  case  of  the  httle  child,  who,  on  being  left 
alone,  first  becomes  frightened  and  then  begins  to 
cry.  If  less  striking,  with  adults  as  a  rule,  court- 
ing solitude  or  shunning  it  is  marked  with  suf- 
ficient clearness  to  suggest  something  of  their  char- 
acter. Some  embrace  every  opportunity  to  escape 
from  busy  surroundings  and  hide  themselves  in 
solitude,  while  others  feel  oppressed  when  they 
are  alone,  and  only  in  company  with  others  find 
themselves  again. 

This  shows  itself  in  three  ways.  The  most  strik- 
ing borrows  its  character  from  the  choice  that  was 
made  at  the  fork  of  the  roads  of  good  and  evil. 
One  must  needs  hide  himself  to  do  wrong.  The 
evil  One  works  by  night.  But  when  wrong  has 
been  done  and  the  conscience  has  been  aroused, 
solitude  is  oppressive  and  diversion  is  sought  in 
company.  In  a  somewhat  less  striking  way  love 
or  dislike  of  solitude  shows  itself  in  the  difference 
between  meditative  or  more  active  dispositions. 
One  is  more  inclined  to  live  within  himself  in 
order  to  think  and  ponder  seriously.  Another  lives 
in  externals.  He  runs  and  slaves,  and  enjoys 
making  a  show  of  his  several  activities.  This  dif- 
ference even  shows  itself  among  nations.  One 
people  lives  within  doors,  another,  when  possible 
at  all,  lives  in  the  street.  In  most  cases  this  dif- 
ference is  accentuated  by  climate  and  settings  of 
nature.  And  finally  this  habit  of  seeking  or  shun- 
ning solitude  explains  itself  from  the  conscious 
possession  or  lack  of  strength.  DiflBident  natures 
are  almost  afraid  of  the  face  of  man  and  draw 
back  with  downcast  eyes,  while  he  who  is  clever 
and  full  of  energy  mingles  freely  among  all  sorts 
of  people. 

53 


Solitude,  moreover,  is  loved  by  men  of  study. 
It  lures  the  aged  more  than  people  of  midlife.  In 
a  run-down  state  of  health,  with  weakened  nerves, 
people  shrink  from  excitement.  But  this  springs 
from  accidental  causes  and  is  no  index  of  char- 
acter. In  connection  with  it,  however,  it  is  sig- 
nificant that  the  Psalmist  twice  calls  the  soul  "the 
solitary  One."  Once  in  Ps.  22,  the  Passion-Psalm, 
prophetic  of  Golgotha,  v.  20:  "Deliver  my  soul 
from  the  sv»'ord.  my  solitarj-  one  from  the  power 
of  the  dog;"  and  again  in  Ps.  35:17:  "Rescue  my 
soul  from  their  destructions,  my  solitary  one  from 
the  young  lions." 

The  soul  is  "the  solitary  one."  This  is  an  index 
of  its  greatness.  An  only  child  is  more  precious  to 
its  parents  than  one  of  seven  on  which  others 
may  pride  themselves.  When  this  only  child  dies, 
the  family  passes  out  of  existence,  and  the  line 
of  succession  is  cut  ofif.  The  soul  exists  inde- 
pendently of  property  and  of  the  body.  However 
much  we  are  attached  to  our  belongings,  their  loss 
can  be  made  good.  And  though  the  body  will  go 
down  into  the  grave,  it  can  be  restored  in  the 
resurrection.  But  such  is  not  the  case  with  the 
soul.  The  soul  is  the  only  possession  which  can 
not  be  replaced.  If  lost,  it  is  lost  forever.  For 
this  reason  Jesus  solemnly  warns  us  not  to  fear 
him  who  can  kill  the  body,  but  rather  to  fear 
Him  who  can  destroy  the  soul.  All  loss  can  be 
made  good,  but  not  the  loss  of  the  soul.  And 
here  your  self-consciousness  separates  itself  from 
your  soul.  Thou  child  of  man,  who  viewest  thy- 
self and  thinkest  about  thyself,  in  the  midst  of 
this  busy  world  you  find  yourself  clothed  upon 
with  a  visible  body  which  prospers  with  bounding 


health  or  wastes  away  with  disease.  But  there  is 
something  more  in  you,  something  that  is  hidden 
in  your  inner  being;  and  that  hidden  something 
is  your  soul,  which  you  must  love.  For  in  death 
you  must  return  it  in  all  honor  and  holiness  to 
God  who  gave  it. 

From  this  the  sense  is  developed  that  the  soul 
is  solitary.  There  is  mutual  approach  between  the 
soul  and  the  world.  We  have  been  endowed  with 
the  capacities  of  sense,  which  like  so  many  win- 
dows, afford  us  outlooks  upon  the  world,  and  place 
us  in  communication  with  it.  God  imparted  unto 
us  the  capacity  to  feel  and  to  sympathize,  so  that 
even  when  we  are  alone  we  can  share  the  feelings 
of  others,  and  at  long  distances  of  separation 
rejoice  with  those  who  do  rejoice,  and  weep  with 
those  who  weep.  We  have  received  the  gift  of 
speech  whereby  the  soul  can  express  itself  and  the 
soul  of  another  can  speak  in  our  ear.  Speech  has 
been  committed  to  writing  and  thanks  to  this  won- 
derful invention,  which  likewise  has  been  given  us 
of  God,  the  soul  can  commune  with  preceding 
generations  and  with  contemporaries  w^hom  we 
have  never  met.  Moreover,  we  have  a  sense  and 
a  knowledge  of  a  higher  world  above,  which  makes 
it  seem  at  times  as  though  angels  of  God  descended 
upon  us,  and  from  us  ascended  again.  And  the 
highest  of  all  is  the  gate  of  the  heart  through 
which  God  can  draw  near  to  the  soul  and  the  soul 
can  go  forth  to  God. 

But  in  spite  of  all  this  the  soul  itself  is  solitary. 
It  remains  apart  from  the  world,  from  nature,  from 
angels  and  from  God.  And  thus  by  itself  it  is 
something,  it  has  something,  which  remains  its 
own,  pure  and  simple,  and  with  respect  to  which 

55 


the  inner  solitariness  can  never  be  broken.  And 
one  of  two  things  is  bound  to  happen:  Either 
the  soul  may  be  left  too  solitary  or  its  solitariness 
may  not  be  sufiBciently  appreciated. 

The  soul  is  too  solitary  when  we  are  bereft  of 
our  means  of  support  and  of  the  sweet  companion- 
ship of  life.  This  is  the  solitariness  of  grief  and  of 
forsakenness,  which  as  burdens,  weigh  us  down 
and  make  us  afraid.  For  the  soul  is  disposed  to 
sympathy,  to  friendly  intercourse  with  the  world, 
to  give  and  to  win  confidence,  to  live  as  man 
among  men,  and  to  spread  its  wings  in  spheres  of 
happiness  and  peace.  When  these  are  withheld, 
when  hatred  repels,  and  slander  persecutes,  instead 
of  love  that  attracts  and  sympathy  that  refreshes, 
shy  and  shivering  the  soul  draws  back  within 
itself.  It  can  not  unburden  itself.  It  can  not  tell 
what  it  feels.  And  shut  up  within  itself  it  pines 
away  in  loneliness  and  grief.  Again,  when  the 
joys  of  life  take  flight,  and  cares  make  heavy 
hearts,  when  sorrow  overtakes  sorrow,  and  the 
horizon  narrows  itself  and  the  outlook  becomes 
darker  and  darker,  and  the  star  of  hope  sets 
behind  ever-thickening  clouds — then,  in  distress- 
ing lonehness,  the  soul  is  thrown  back  upon  itself 
and  the  solitary  one  pants  for  breath,  and  then 
is  the  time  for  Satan  to  come  in  with  the  thought 
of  suicide. 

As  the  soul  can  be  troubled  and  distressed  in 
this  way  by  too  much  solitude,  it  can  also  suffer 
loss,  when  as  the  result  of  superficiality,  thought- 
lessness and  want  of  seriousness,  its  solitude  is  not 
properly  estimated.  At  such  times  the  soul  is  not 
known,  neither  is  it  honored  in  its  individual,  soli- 
tary and  independent  existence.     Then  the  only 

56 


resort  is  endless  rounds  of  diversion  and  recrea- 
tion. But  never  a  turning  in  upon  oneself.  Never 
a  collecting  of  the  soul  together  for  the  sake  of 
quiet  thought.  Never  a  search  after  the  soul  for 
its  own  sake.  On  the  contrary  the  soul  is  kept 
in  a  state  of  constant  excitement.  It  is  held  cap- 
tive to  serve  its  environments.  It  is  never  per- 
mitted to  rest  for  self-examination  and  for  finding 
inward  peace. 

The  world  at  large  is  divided  into  these  two 
great  companies.  On  one  hand  they  who  are 
wretched  and  distressed  of  soul  and  who  pine  away 
in  inner  solitariness.  On  the  other  hand  the 
merrj^-making  multitudes  who  are  always  hurried, 
who  are  continually  engaged  with  the  art  of 
externalizing  themselves  and  never  have  a  thought 
about  their  own  solitary"  soul. 

The  only  medicine  at  hand  for  both  these  con- 
ditions of  soul  is  fellowship  w^th  God.  For  the 
soul  has  its  holy  of  holies  as  well  as  its  holy  place 
and  its  outer  court.  The  world  does  not  come 
nearer  to  the  soul  than  this  outer  court.  There 
it  remains,  and  has  neither  vision  nor  understand- 
ing of  the  several  elements  that  constitute  the 
soul. 

Intimate,  spiritual  friendship  makes  closer 
approaches  to  the  soul.  There  are  some  congenial 
spirits  that  understand  us  and  see  more  clearly 
through  us,  and  who  are  therefore  better  able,  with 
tenderness,  to  sustain  and  to  comfort  us.  But 
even  they  do  not  enter  into  the  holy  of  holies. 
There  is  always  a  deep  background  into  which 
they  can  not  come,  and  where  the  soul  remains 
in  its  solitariness. 

He  who  alone  can  enter  into  this  holiest  and 

57 


most  hidden  recess  of  the  soul  is  God  by  his 
Holy  Spirit.  He  alone  can  fully  break  this  soli- 
tariness of  the  soul.  He  alone  can  comfort  him 
who  is  caught  in  the  snares  of  death.  He  alone 
can  save  the  soul  of  him  who  has  long  sought 
diversion  in  the  vain  pleasures  of  the  world. 


"GOD  CREATED  MAN  AFTER  HIS 
IMAGE." 

All  true  religion  and  godliness  springs  from  the 
fact  that  we  have  been  created  after  the  Image  of 
God.  Some  of  us  have  passed  from  the  period  in 
the  Christian  life  of  "milk  for  babes"  to  that  of 
''strong  meat  for  adults."  We  understand  there- 
fore that  calling  upon  God  and  walking  in  the 
ways  of  his  laws  do  not  by  themselves  constitute 
true  religion  and  godliness,  and  that  the  secret  of 
salvation  is  unveiled  in  all  its  fullness  only  when 
we  have  fellowship  with  the  Eternal  and  abide 
under  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty. 

Outward  forms  of  worship  are  not  without  value. 
Provisionally  they  are  the  only  thinkable  ones. 
Although  they  do  not  make  sure  of  heaven,  they 
exert  binding  influences  upon  many  thousands  of 
people  which  prevent  the  dissolution  of  society. 
But  the  plant  of  spirituality  outgrows  at  length 
the  outward  form  and  goes  on,  in  the  words  of 
the  Apostle,  unto  perfection.  It  comes  to  blos- 
som in  the  very  gleam  of  God's  majesty.  It  is 
fostered  by  the  outshining  of  his  glory  and 
watered  by  the  dews  from  above.  Thus  it  comes 
to  a  personal  knowledge  of  the  Lord,  as  a  man 
knoweth  his  brother;  to  a  dwelling  of  the  soul  in 

58 


the  tabernacle  of  the  Lord,  and  to  the  indwelling 
of  the  Holy  One  in  the  temple  of  the  heart. 

This  requires  a  new  emphasis.  Religious  forms 
change  and  pass  awa}',  but  that  which  remains  the 
same  under  all  skies,  and  which  does  not  lose  but 
gain  in  strength  to  the  end  of  life,  is  the  blessed 
communion  of  soul  with  the  Father  of  spirits,  so 
that  by  night  we  retire  with  God,  and  at  the  dawn 
of  day  we  awaken  with  him,  and  that  all  the  way 
of  our  earthly  pilgrimage  we  follow  our  good 
Shepherd. 

Moreover,  the  more  intimate  communion  of 
saints  consists  in  this  alone.  It  surely  binds  heart 
to  heart  when  we  learn  that  others  hold  the  same 
faith  as  ourselves,  that  we  belong  to  One  church, 
and  that  together  we  break  One  bread  and  drink 
One  cup.  But  in  the  great  journey  through  life 
to  the  courts  of  everlasting  light  companionship 
is  sweetest  with  those  who,  under  whatever  out- 
ward form,  have  given  us  intimations  that  they 
hve  in  communion  with  God. 

This  relates  back  to  our  creation.  That  is  to 
say,  true  religion  and  our  capacity  for  genuine 
godliness  spring  solely  from  our  creation  after 
God's  Image  and  after  the  Likeness  of  the 
Almighty.  This  is  not  altered  by  the  fact  that 
we  have  been  conceived  and  born  in  sin.  With- 
out regeneration  there  is  no  true  religion.  In  this 
re-birth  the  fundamental  trait  of  creation  after 
God's  Image  is  revived  again.  The  fact  that  we 
have  been  born  in  sin  can  therefore  be  passed  by. 
The  subject  in  hand  is  conscious,  actual  fellow- 
ship with  Our  Father  who  is  in  heaven.  And  this 
'  depends  upon  the  necessary  harmony  which  of 
itself  prevails  between  the  Original  and  what  the 


image  shows  of  it.  The  sodality  of  the  Original 
and  the  image  is  felt  and  understood  at  once. 
One  can  not  be  an  image,  or  image-bearer  and  an, 
exhibitor  of  the  same  apart  from  the  relation  that 
binds  him  to  the  Original.  If  a  picture  is  a  good 
likeness,  it  is  this  because  the  original  is  what  the 
likeness  shows  that  he  is.  This  is  more  striking 
with  a  photograph  than  with  a  painted  portrait 
or  with  a  face  that  is  cut  from  marble.  For  with 
these  the  artist  painter  or  sculptor  comes  in  as  the 
third  factor  between  the  original  and  the  picture. 
But  not  so  with  a  photograph.  By  the  operation 
of  light  upon  the  sensitive  plate  the  original  here 
dteates  his  own  image  and  forms  the  features  after 
those  of  his  own  face.  And  what  a  person  makes 
in  a  photograph  is  an  exceedingly  weak  imitation. 
which  only  resembles  from  afar  what  God  did 
when  he  said:  "Let  us  make  man  after  our 
likeness,"  and  then  created  him  so. 

Intimate  fellowship  is  only  possible  between 
people  of  like  mind.  There  is  fellowship  of  a  less 
intimate  sort.  An  impressionable  mind  communes 
with  nature  when  she  is  arrayed  in  her  beautiful 
garments  of  spring.  This  fellowship  with  plants 
and  flowers  is  more  intimate  than  with  the  starry 
skies.  It  is  closer  still  with  the  horse  we  ride,  with 
the  dog  that  greets  us  joyfully  at  the  gate,  and 
the  lark  whose  morning  song  charms  wood  and 
dale.  With  stream  and  mountain,  moon  and  star, 
with  flower  and  domestic  animal,  however,  fellow- 
ship is  always  from  a  distance.  An  animal  may 
look  us  in  the  face  with  marked  expression,  but 
we  do  not  understand  it.  Animal  life  is  different 
from  our  own.  True  fellowship  only  comes  when 
we  get  in  touch  with  man.    Even  as  St.  Paul  put 

60 


the  question  to  the  Corinthians,  "What  man 
knoweth  the  things  of  a  man,  save  the  spirit  of 
man  which  is  in  him?"  (1-2:11).  Man  alone  can 
understand  man.  The  more  human  we  are  our- 
selves, the  more  fully  will  we  understand  the 
truly  human  in  others.  Of  course,  always  with 
this  difference,  that  the  more  nearly  we  are  alike, 
the  closer  will  be  our  communion.  A  compatriot 
comes  closer  to  us  than  a  foreigner.  A  member  of 
the  family,  a  professional  colleague,  a  peer  in 
society,  one  whose  lot  and  experience  in  life  are 
similar  with  ours  comes  nearer  to  us  than  he 
whose  settings  of  life  are  in  every  way  different 
from  our  own.    Like  alone  understands  like. 

The  Divine  saying,  "Let  us  make  man  after  our 
image  and  likeness,"  implied  of  itself  therefore 
the  Divine  intention  of  creating  beings  who  would 
be  capable  of  Divine  fellowship  and  who  would 
be  susceptible  to  this  glorious  .  communion.  If, 
then,  all  true  religion  consists  of  this  mutual  fel- 
lowship, it  follows  that  when  God  created  a  being 
after  his  likeness  He  thereby  simultaneously 
created  religion. 

God  magnified  his  omnipotence  in  the  works  of 
nature,  and  the  more  fully  its  early  chaotic  estates 
refined  and  unfolded  themselves,  until  the  mur- 
mur of  waters  bore  fruition  in  the  note  of  the 
nightingale,  the  more  majestic  became  the  revela- 
tion of  the  splendor  of  Divine  Almightiness.  The 
whole  earth  is  full  of  God's  glory.  But  there  is  no 
self-conscious  and  responsive  fellowship  between 
all  this  and  God.  God  stands  above  nature. 
Nature  is  subject  to  His  majesty,  but  it  has  no 
knowledge  or  understanding  of  God  and  therefor© 
no  single  note  of  thanksgiving,  worship  or  com- 


munion  goes  forth  from  Nature  to  God.  There  is 
power  in  it  everywhere,  but  there  is  no  fellowship 
of  love  in  it. 

And  this  is  the  Divine  desire.  God  must  needs 
address  his  creation  and  obtain  a  response  from  it 
in  return.  He  must  needs  establish  close,  personal 
fellowship  and  mutual  communion  with  his  crea- 
tion. The  eternal,  knowing,  loving,  seeking 
Father  desires  to  be  known,  to  be  loved  and  to 
be  sought.  The  flame  of  religion  must  inwardly 
gleam  through  the  works  of  creation,  even  as  in 
the  outward  sphere  the  sun  gleams  throughout  the 
earth.  But  this  is  impossible  and  can  not  be 
thinkable,  except  as  God  creates  a  being  after  His 
own  image  and  likeness — a  being  of  his  own  gen- 
eration, and  who  therefore  is  a  child,  who  will 
cleave  to  him  as  Father;  a  being  whose  distance 
and  distinction  from  his  infinite  majesty  will  be 
unfathomably  deep,  but  who,  nevertheless,  feeling 
and  knowing  the  Divine  life  in  his  own  life,  will 
associate  with  God  as  brother  with  brother,  and 
who  will  thus  be  brought  into  secret  and  sacred 
communion  with  him. 

Religion,  therefore,  is  not  founded  upon  our 
creation  after  the  Divine  Image  for  our  sake,  but 
for  the  sake  of  God.  Only  our  earnest  endeavor 
to  cultivate  this  hidden  communion  with  God  will 
fulfill  the  purpose  for  which  he  created  us  after 
his  likeness.  For  though  it  is  true  that  this 
glorious  distinction  of  our  creation  in  the  likeness 
of  God  renders  us  unspeakably  rich  and  happy, 
that  it  baptizes  us  into  the  Divine  family,  so  that 
we  are  children  of  the  Most  Highest,  and  are 
thereby  elevated  to  princely  holdings  in  the 
heavenly  sanctuary,  he  who  counts  this  the   all 


and  all  of  this  matter  will  utterly  and  dismally 
fail.  In  this  respect  also  that  which  is  first  in 
rank  and  order  is  not  what  makes  us  happy  and 
blessed,  but  that  which  tends  to  realize  God's 
purpose.  It  is  his  purpose  to  be  known  and  to 
be  loved;  to  be  sought  after  and  to  be  worship- 
ped ;  and  to  have  the  offerings  of  conscious,  worship- 
ful communion  with  himself  brought  to  his  altars 
by  his  Creation.  His  purpose  is  not  merely  to 
be  great,  but  to  be  known,  to  be  praised  and  to 
be  loved  as  such.  And,  therefore,  God  created 
man  after  his  Image  and  after  his  Likeness. 

13 

"NONE  OF  ME." 

The  new  paganism,  which  is  broadly  on  the 
increase,  differs  from  that  against  which  prophets 
and  Apostles  protested,  in  that  it  has  no  idols. 
Speaking  metaphorically  it  has.  It  is  properly 
said  that  a  mother  makes  an  idol  of  her  child,  a 
wife  of  her  husband.  One  worships  his  idol  in 
art  and  another  in  Mammon.  However  common, 
though,  this  manner  of  speech  may  be,  the  thing 
indicated  is  not  idolatry  proper,  for  this  exhibits 
visible  idols.  It  builds  temples  and  pagodas  in 
their  behalf.  It  appoints  priests,  burns  sacrifices 
and  orders  public  festivals  in  their  honor.  Ancient 
paganism,  with  its  visible  idolatry,  was  personal. 
Modern  paganism  soars  in  vague  enchantments. 

In  Paris  and  in  London,  and  as  report  has  it,  in 
New  York,  societies  have  been  formed  that  assem- 
ble in  pagan-like  chapels  and  kneel  and  mutter 
prayers  before  idols.  But  these  do  not  lead  the 
new  pagan  movement.  For  the  most  part  these 
people    have    lived    for    some    years    in    pagan- 

63 


Asiatic  countries,  and  upon  their  return  imitate 
in  Europe  or  America  what  they  have  seen  in 
Asia,  and  in  which  they  took  part  while  there. 
This  is  but  a  little  flaw  on  the  surface  of  things 
and  has  no  significance  in  the  great  movement  of 
spirits. 

The  modern  pagan  movement,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  driven  by  an  entirely  impersonal  object. 
It  has  no  thought  of  setting  up  idolatrous  images. 
It  scorns  idolatry  proper  which  is  still  perpetuated 
in  India,  China  and  Japan.  But  it  is  negatively 
impelled  by  the  denial  of  a  living,  personal  God 
and  positively  by  doting  on  vague  ideals,  or  else 
on  pleasure  and  money.  This  makes  warfare 
against  modern  paganism  far  more  difficult  than 
that  which  Bible  prophets  and  apostles  waged 
against  the  idolatry  of  anti"quit3^  Then  name  was 
contrasted  with  name,  person  with  person,  image 
with  image.  Not  Baal,  but  Jehovah.  Not  Jupiter, 
but  the  Lord  of  hosts.  Not  the  image  of  the 
great  Diana,  but  Christ,  the  image  of  the  Invisible 
God.  The  personal  character  which  paganism 
derived  from  visible  idolatrj^  made  it  imperative 
to  set  up  by  the  side  of  it  an  equally  personal 
object  of  worship.  Thus  Si  on  was  contrasted  with 
Basan,  Jerusalem  with  Gerizim;  priest  with  priest. 
And  the  living,  eternal  and  adorable  Jehovah  was 
contrasted  with  Moloch  and  Baal.  Hence  the 
scornful  description  of  idols.  Ears  have  they,  but 
thej"  hear  not.  Eyes  have  they,  but  they  see  not. 
Mouths  have  they,  but  they  speak  not.  They 
who  made  them  are  like  unto  them.  0,  Israel, 
trust  thou  in  the  Lord  (Ps.  115:6). 

There  is  nothing  of  this  now.  In  our  times  a 
man  dotes  on  humanity.    Another  man  has  a  zeal 

G4 


for  art.  The  higher  forms  of  Hfe  are  loved  and 
appreciated.  Multitudes  engage  in  the  chase  after 
pleasure  and  wealth,  and  obey  the  dictates  of 
passion.  By  way  ot  reaction  this  has  resulted  in 
the  fact  that  they  who  in  other  respects  are  faith- 
ful Christians  have  abandoned  far  too  greatly  the 
personal  element  in  the  living  God,  and  in  turn 
dote  on  the  beautiful  ideas  of  mercy  and  love,  of 
peace  and  the  higher  good.  But  personal  com- 
munion with  the  personal  God  is  no  longer  culti- 
vated with  that  warmth  of  devotion  and  conse- 
cration which  was  the  secret  of  the  heroic  faith 
of  the  fathers. 

It  is  granted  that  the  immortal  ideal  of  love 
and  mercy  indicates  the  essential  nature  of  God. 
But  the  trouble  is  that  instead  of  saying,  "God  is 
love"  or  "love  is  God,"  one  forms  an  idea  of  love 
for  himself,  transforms  this  idea  into  an  ideal, 
which  eclipses  God  from  sight.  And  estranged 
from  the  living  God,  one  dotes  on  creations  of 
his  own  thought.  Applying  this  to  Christ,  we 
reach  the  same  result.  In  contrast  with  an  image 
of  an  idol,  God  has  set  up  his  Image  in  his 
Only-begotten  Son,  as  Christ  is  revealed  in  the 
flesh.  This  relegates  ideas  and  ideals  to  the  back- 
ground. And  in  the  foreground,  in  clear  and 
transparent  light,  stands  the  Christ,  the  incar- 
nated Word.  All  the  enthusiasm  with  which 
Christianity  was  carried  into  the  world  sprang 
from  this  heaven-wide  difference.  The  philos- 
ophers of  Greece  and  Rome  doted  on  beautiful 
ideals.  The  Apostles  were  enthused  with  love  for 
the  living  Christ,  the  tangible  Image  of  the  living 
God.  The  secret  of  their  power  lay  in  this  per- 
sonal attachment  of  faith  to  the  living  Christ  in 

65 


vety  person.  It  was  a  heart-to-heart  love  that 
conquered  the  world  in  that  early  age.  Love,  and 
attachment  to  the  Mediator  between  God  and 
man,  worked  the  downfall  of  ancient  paganism. 
When  St.  Thomas  puts  his  hand  on  the  wound- 
print  in  Jesus'  side,  sinks  to  his  knees  and 
exclaims:  "My  Lord  and  my  God,"  all  the  power 
of  personal  worship  of  God  in  Christ  reveals 
itself.  And  by  this  alone  the  church  of  Christ 
has  become  what  it  is. 

This  is  also  lost  to  us.  First,  this  power  was 
weakened  by  a  sentimental  holding  fast  to  Christ 
as  man.  Thereby  God,  if  not  forgotten,  was 
obscured  in  his  majesty.  And  now  even  Chris- 
tians put  back  the  person  of  Christ,  and  pay 
homage  to  an  ideal  in  Christ  in  order  soon  to 
own  a  relation  to  this  ideal  which  is  stronger  than 
to  the  person  of  Christ  himself.  By  admiration 
of  the  ideal  the  faith  is  demolished. 

This  is  the  Lord's  complaint  in  Asaph's  Song, 
Psalm  81:11:  "And  Israel  would  none  of  me." 
It  could  not  have  been  expressed  more  personally 
than  this.  They  love  my  creation.  They  enjoy 
the  world  which  I  called  into  being.  They  admire 
the  wisdom  which  I  have  made  to  shine  as  light 
in  darkness.  They  dote  on  love  and  mercy,  the 
feeling  and  appreciation  of  which  I  implanted  in 
their  breast.  But  me  they  leave  alone.  Me  they 
overlook.  Of  me  they  have  no  thought.  To  me 
they  consecrate  no  personal  love  of  their  heart. 
With  me  they  seek  no  communion.  Me  they  do 
not  know.  Personal  fellowship  with  me  has  no 
charm  for  them.  They  have  everything  that  is 
mine,  but  they  would  none  of  me. 

This   complaint  is   often  overheard  among  us. 


People  will  enjoy  our  belongings  and  take  pleas^ 
ure  with  our  goods.  They  will  honor  our  ideas 
and  adorn  themselves  with  flowers  from  our  gar- 
den. They  will  praise  our  deeds  without  stint,  but 
they  hold  themselves  aloof  from  every  personal 
touch.  No  trace  of  affection  for  us  can  be  dis- 
covered in  their  heart.  No  sympathy  for  us  can 
be  observed  in  anything  they  do.  They  show 
no  desire  to  have  personal  knowledge  of  us.  The 
reason  for  this,  no  doubt,  in  many  cases,  is  to  be 
found  with  the  person  himself.  We  can  admire  a 
man,  honor  him,  praise  his  works  and  his  life, 
and  yet  say,  "He  is  no  man  to  invite  personal 
affection." 

This,  however,  can  not  be  the  case  with  God. 
He  alone  is  adorable.  He  is  the  highest  Good.  He 
is  Love.  In  everything  He  is  loveable  and 
eternally  to  be  desired.  And  when  in  spite  of  all 
this  God  complains,  "They  would  have  none  of 
]^e,"  it  is  directed  against  our  heart  and  against 
our  faith.  In  words  of  deepest  feeling  it  expresses 
God's  grief  over  our  disregard  of  him.  I  alone 
am  He  whom  they  should  desire,  and  lo!  they 
would  have  none  of  Me.  They  do  not  love  Me. 
With  heart  and  soul  they  do  not  cleave  to  Me. 
To  their  personal  affection  I,  their  God,  am  not 
the  strong  and  all-else  expelling  center  of  attrac- 
tion. 

This  is  a  complaint  against  everything  that  is 
superficial,  vague  and  unreal  in  our  Christian  life; 
against  weakened  conceptions  of  religion;  against 
faithlessness  of  heart.  Religious  weakening  shows 
itself  in  lack  of  holy  ardour,  in  the  quenched  fires 
of  nobler  enthusiasm,  and  in  the  congealed  state  of 
the  waters  of  holy  mysticism.     This  is  partly  a 

67 


personal  wrong  which  springs  from  an  overesti- 
mate of  self,  from  too  much  self-sufficiency,  from 
lack  of  dependence  and  fidelity.  It  is  also  an  evil 
of  the  times,  a  general,  contagious  disease  where- 
by one  poisons  another.  It  is  apostacy  on  the  part 
of  the  world  of  spirits  which  diverts  the  heart 
from  the  living  God. 

But  this  must  be  resisted.  The  struggle  must 
be  begun  against  our  own  heart  first,  that  it  may 
be  restored  to  personal  communion  with  the  living 
God.  This  struggle  must  be  extended  across  the 
entire  range  of  our  environments  to  repress  the 
false  religions  of  vague  and  empty  ideals,  and  in 
their  room  establish  personal  affection  for  the 
living  God.  This  struggle  must  be  continued  with 
unfailing  faithfulness  in  public  preaching,  in  devo- 
tional literature  and  in  ardent  supplications  to  call 
God  back  into  our  personal  life.  And  finally  this 
struggle  must  be  carried  into  the  world  at  large 
to  call  it  back  from  idle  fancies  to  sober  reality; 
from  empty  ideals  to  essentials;  from  religion  to 
the  only  object  of  worship,  and  from  doting  on 
barren  abstractions  to  the  love  of  the  faith  that 
directs  itself  solely  and  alone  to  Him  who  has 
revealed  himself  in  Christ  as  the  personal,  living 
God. 

14 

A  SUN. 

A  little  child,  especially  when  it  is  a  girl,  is 
often  said  to  be  the  sunshine  of  the  house.  But 
however  glad  we  may  be,  in  dark  hours  of  life, 
to  own  such  a  little  sun  to  brighten  the  home, 
the  joy  of  the  Psalmist  was  far  greater  when  he 
sang,  "The  Lord  is  the  sun  of  my  life."  - 

68 


We  people  of  Western  lands  should  be  more 
familiar  with  the  tender  and  passionate  language 
of  the  poetry  of  Scripture.  The  music  of  the 
Psalter  is  uplifting:  For  the  Lord  God  is  a  sun 
and  a  shield.  The  Lord  will  give  grace  and  glory. 
No  good  thing  will  He  withhold  from  them  that 
walk  uprightly  (Ps.  §4:11).  It  raises  grateful 
echoes  in  the  heart.  But,  alas,  they  are  not  orig- 
inal with  us.  Among  rich  and  poor  we  speak  of 
a  sunshine  in  the  house.  But  who  volunteers  to 
confess  from  long  experience :  The  Lord  has  been 
a  Sun  unto  me  all  my  days,  and  will  be  till  I  die. 
The  figure  is  still  used,  but  mostly  in  a  doctrinal 
way,  and  almost  exclusively  in  the  limited  sense 
of  "Sun  of  Righteousness."  And  righteousness  has 
the  emphasis  at  the  expense  of  the  rich  imagery 
of  the  Sun.  But  this  beautiful  imagery  of  the 
Sun  contains  a  world  of  thought.  It  is  more  than 
sheer  comparison.  For  when  we  realize  that  God 
is  the  Sun  of  our  life,  the  joy  of  it  brings  us 
nearer  to  him.  It  illumines  all  of  life  and  lib- 
erates us  from  abstract  thoughts  of  him. 

The  sun  is  not  to  us  what  he  was  to  the 
Psalmist  in  the  East.  The  Western  mind  can  but 
faintly  surmise  the  sparkling  radiancy  of  Eastern 
heavens.  The  firmament  that  overarches  the  lands 
from  which  Abraham  emigrated  and  those  which 
God  gave  him  for  an  inheritance  glistens  with  a 
sheen  of  heavenly  brightness  which  makes  our 
heavens  at  noon  seem  wrapped  in  twilight.  The 
midnight  sky  which  the  shepherd's  saw  bending 
over  Bethlehem  was  prepared,  as  it  were,  for  the 
coming  of  the  angelic  hosts.  And  in  a  country 
where  stars  enchant  the  eye  by  their  dazzling 
splendor  and  the  moon  puts  the  mind,  as  it  were, 

69 


in  a  state  of  ecstacy,  what  must  the  sun  be  of 
which  the  Psalmist  sang:  "His  going  forth  is 
from  the  end  of  the  heaven  *  *  *  and  there  is 
nothing  hid  from  the  heat  thereof"  (19:6).  If 
any  idolatry  ever  was  intelligible,  it  was  not  the 
worship  of  images  or  of  spirits,  but  the  calm  and 
reverent  adoration  of  the  .wandering  Bedouin,  as 
beneath  such  wondrous  skies  he  beheld  the  stars 
by  night  and  the  glory  of  the  sun  by  day  until 
at  length,  swayed  by  ecstacy,  he  imagined  that 
this  dazzling,  majestic,  all-pervading  and  govern- 
ing sun  was  not  merely  a  heavenly  body,  but  even 
God  him.self. 

This  error  was  con-ected  in  Israel.  The  sun  is 
not  God.  But  God  is  the  sun  of  the  inner  life. 
He  has  appointed  the  sun  to  benefit  us  in  a  thou- 
sand ways,  and  chiefly  to  furnish  us  with  a  glor- 
ious imagery,  by  which,  amid  the  vanity  and 
emptiness  of  life  on  earth,  to  set  forth  in  glowing 
terms  what  God  is  to  us.  Comparing  God  with 
the  sun  is  not  original  with  man.  We  have  not 
selected  the  sun  as  a  likeness  of  God.  But  the 
sun  forecasts  in  nature  what  God  is  to  all  higher 
human  life.  In  the  sunlight  and  in  its  effects  God 
illustrates  what  He  is  to  moral  and  spiritual 
human  nature.  And  when  in  weary  processes  of 
analytical  studies  of  the  Divine  attributes  and 
Providence  we  reach  at  length  some  well-defined 
but  cold  abstractions,  and  we  are  past  all  feeling, 
it  seems  as  if  the  glow  of  the  higher  life  suddenly 
takes  hold  of  us,  when  all  we  know  of  God, 
recapitulates  itself  in  the  single  phrase  of  delight: 
''The  Lord  is  the  Sun  of  my  life."  This  sacred 
imagery  is  peculiarly  effective.  It  puts  the  per- 
vading power  of  God  in  our  life  clearly  before  our 

70 


eyes.  The  sun  is  high  above  us  in  the  heavens, 
and  close  at  hand  as  well,  and  around  us  on  every 
side.  We  feel  his  presence  and  seek  protection 
from  it  in  the  shade.  We  exclude  him  from  our 
chambers  bv  closing  blinds.  He  is  a  power  far  oft 
and  close  by.  He  imparts  power  to  the  soil,  where 
hidden  from  human  eyes,  it  makes  the  seed  germ- 
inate and  sprout. 

And  such  is  the  case  with  God,  both  as  to  opera- 
tions and  antithesis.  His  throne  is  high  above  us 
in  the  heavens.  By  His  omnipresence  God  is  close 
by  and  all  around  us.  He  has  access  to  the  heart. 
He  searches  its  most  hidden  parts  and  there 
operates  with  secret  power.  Whenever  a  holy 
seed  germinates  within,  or  a  virtue  blossoms  on 
the  stem  of  the  soul,  it  is  God,  our  Sun,  whose 
mighty  power  performs  it.  ,  ,         , 

Think  for  a  moment  that  the  sun  were  blotted 
out  from  the  skies  and  the  whole  earth  would 
soon  resemble  conditions  of  the  North  Pole. 
Every  plant  and  herb  would  die.  Every  color 
w^ould  pale.  Snow  and  ice  would  cover  the  ground 
as  with  a  shroud.  That  such  is  not  the  case  now, 
that  everything  pulsates  with  bounding  life  and 
exhibits  color  and  sheen,  that  food  springs  from 
the  ground,  and  lilies  adorn  the  field,  and  all 
nature  exliales  the  sweet  breath  of  life  is  because 
the  sun  radiates  light  and  heat  and  as  by  magic 
brings  life  out  of  death  and  turns  barren  wilder- 
nesses into  fruitful  fields.  ,    r>.   j  • 

And  what  the  sun  is  to  mother  earth  God  is  to 
the  human  heart.  If  the  soul  were  abandoned  of 
God  and  deprived  of  his  gracious  inshimng  and 
inworking,  life  would  soon  perish  from  the  heart, 
the  affections  would  lose  all  warmth  and  deathly 


71 


cold  would  chill  the  inner  existence.  No  more 
flowers  would  bloom  in  the  garden  of  the  heart. 
No  more  sacred  motion  would  stir  the  hidden 
waters  of  the  soul.  Everything  within  would  wither 
and  die.  The  heart  would  cease  to  be  human,  and 
whether  it  is  said,  "With  Thee,  O  Lord,  is  the 
fountain  of  life,"  or  "In  Thy  light  shall  we  see 
light,"  or  "The  Lord  is  the  Sun  of  my  soul,"  it 
all  means:  With  God  the  soul  has  life;  without 
God  it  is  dead.  The  source  of  all  life  and  of  all 
power  is  God.  Everything,  in  brief,  that  makes 
the  sun  unspeakabh'  precious  in  the  world  of 
nature  God  is  to  the  heart  and  tt)  all  human  life. 
With  Him  we  are  aboundingly  rich  and  radiantly 
happy.  Without  Him  we  are  poor  and  naked  and 
cold. 

The  sun,  moreover,  not  only  nourishes  the 
ground  by  his  warmth,  but  by  his  radiant  light 
exhibits  and  colors  life.  When  the  evening 
shadows  lengthen  everything  assumes  a  dull  and 
nebulous  aspect.  But  dawn  brings  friendly  light, 
by  which  all  things  assume  proportions,  distances 
are  measured,  forms  and  colors  are  recognized. 
And  as  it  takes  on  brightness  all  nature  speaks 
to  the  heart.  And  God  does  all  this  for  the  inner 
life.  Where  He  is  hidden  from  blinded  eyes,  life 
is  a  somber  grey,  without  point  of  departure,  direc- 
tion or  aim.  All  knowledge  and  insight  fails. 
Courage  to  go  on  grows  faint.  Inspiration  to 
finish  the  course  gives  way.  And  nothing  rests 
save  groping  for  the  wall  as  one  blind ;  with- 
drawing within  oneself  in  cheerless,  helpless  soli- 
tude ;  the  loss  of  knowledge ;  the  loss  of  self- 
consciousness ;  the  privation  of  color  and  outline. 
A  life  as  in  the  graveyard,  where  weeds  thrive, 
72 


snakes  lurk  about,  and  the  shriek  of  the  night- 
bird  startles.  Until  God  rolls  the  clouds  away,  and 
the  sun  rises  again  in  the  soul,  and  when  as  by 
the  touch  of  a  magic  wand  everv'thing  becomes 
new,  and  light  dispels  inner  darkness,  and  peace 
with  a  friendly  hand  opens  wide  the  door  of  the 
troubled  mind,  so  that  by  the  light  of  God's 
countenance  the  onward  way  is  seen  with  heavenly 
clearness,  and  the  journey  is  resumed  with  fresh 
courage,  tne  wniles  the  sun  from  on  high  cheers 
and  sanctifies  the  heart. 

The  image  of  the  sun  is  also  significant  with 
respect  to  the  fact  that  the  shining  of  God's  face 
upon  the  heart  is  not  an  unbroken  brightness. 
As  day  is  succeeded  by  night,  and  summer  by 
winter,  it  has  ever  been  the  same  in  the  lives  of 
the  saints.  There  were  times  of  clear,  conscious 
fellowship  with  the  Invisible,  when  life  from 
hour  to  hour  was  as  a  walking  with  God.  And 
these  were  followed  by  times  of  overwhelming 
activities  which  exhausted  the  mind,  business 
interests  that  absorbed  the  soul,  and  cares  that 
burdened  the  heart.  This  is  a  change  in  the 
spiritual  life  as  of  day  and  night.  It  is  well  with 
him  who  can  say  that  his  estrangement  from  God 
in  every  twenty-four  hours  is  no  longer  than  the 
hours  of  sleep.  And  aside  from  this  almost  daily 
rise  and  fall  in  the  intimacy  of  the  fellowship  with 
God,  this  Sun  withdraws  himself  and  again  makes 
His  approach  whereby  summer  and  winter  follow 
one  another  in  the  life  of  the  soul.  Undisturbed 
and  unbroken  fellowship  with  God  is  not  of  this 
earth.  It  awaits  us  in  all  its  fullness  only  in  the 
realms  of  everlasting  light.  There  always  have 
been    and    always   will    be    changes   here    in    our 

73 


spiritual  conditions  whereby  some  years  harvests 
will  be  far  greater  than  others.  Struggles  whereby 
the  soul  climbs  upward  from  lower  to  higher  view- 
points— trials  that  bring  the  soul  into  depths  of 
darkness  whereby  for  weeks  and  months  the 
higher  life  is  buried,  as  it  were,  underneath  heavy 
layers  of  ice.  The  sun  is  not  gone,  but  is  covered 
with  heavy  clouds.  And  this  goes  on  until  God's 
time  of  help  arrives.  Then  clouds  scatter  and  are 
driven  away.  Spring  returns  in  the  soul,  the  pre- 
lude to  glorious  sunshine.  And  in  the  end  we 
thank  God  for  the  cold  impoverishment  of  spiritual 
winter,  which  makes  spring  and  summer  all  the 
more  appreciated  and  enjoyed. 

Another  point  of  comparison  should  not  be 
ignored.  Natural  sunshine  operates  in  two  ways. 
It  fosters  and  warms  the  ground,  causing  germina- 
tion and  fruition.  But  it  hardens  the  clod,  it 
singes  leaves  and  withers  blossoms.  This  touches 
the  conscience.  When  we  glory  in  the  Lord  as 
the  Sun  of  the  Soul,  it  implies  that  God's  love 
and  grace  can  not  be  abused  with  impunity. 
Hardening  is  an  awful  thing,  but  it  came  upon 
Israel  and  is  not  infrequent  now.  When  the 
warmth  of  Divine  affection  is  resisted,  it  does  not 
soften  the  heart  nor  make  it  tender,  but  attacks 
spirituality  in  its  outward  expression  and  sears  it. 
This  does  not  mean  mortal  hardening  from  which 
there  is  no  repentance.  He  whose  spiritual  estate 
has  come  to  this  pass  will  not  read  these  medi- 
tations. But  temporary  hardening  retards  the 
progress  of  spiritual  life.  This  temporary  hard- 
ening by  grace  and  Divine  love  is  frequently 
observed.  It  is  then  a  sin  which  is  cherished;  it 
is  a  sacrifice  which  is  not  willingly  brought;  it  is 

74 


a  step  that  will  not  be  taken;  it  is  an  exertion 
from  which  we  shrink,  or  it  is  sin  in  some 
material  direction,  or  in  the  home,  in  public  or  in 
church  life  which  we  seek  to  harmonize  with  the 
privileges  of  Divine  grace.  But  it  will  not  do. 
In  God's  mind  it  is  unthinkable.  And  as  long  as 
we  persist  in  sin  the  sun  will  shine  and  sometimes 
his  heat  will  be  so  fierce  that  no  fruit  of  the 
spirit  can  ripen  and  the  very  intensity  of  the 
grace  of  God  will  harden  us.  ''Thou  Lord  art  the 
sun  of  mj^  soul,"  is  the  language  of  faith  with 
which  to  enter  eternity.  Let  us  see  to  it  that  it 
may  not  some  day  testify  against  us.  "The  fall 
and  rising  again"  has  an  application  also  in  this 
matter. 

15 

UNDER  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE 
ALMIGHTY. 

Ever\'  creature  is  a  thought  of  God.  All  created 
things  therefore  are  symbols  of  the  Divine.  To 
hail  winged  creatures  as  symbolic  expressions  of 
the  life  of  God  is  not  original  with  us.  The 
Scripture  sets  us  the  example.  The  devout  believer 
is  accustomed  to  its  figurative  language  and  he 
readily  admits  that  it  greatly  cheers  and  blesses 
him.  What  Jesus  said  in  these  figurative  terms 
regarding  Jerusalem  fell  within  the  scope  of  com- 
mon understanding.  The  hen  with  her  chickens 
is  a  symbol  of  divine  compassion,  which  moves 
even  an  outsider  by  its  beauty  and  tenderness. 
"Jerusalem,  Jerusalem,  how  often  would  I  have 
gathered  thy  children  together  as  a  hen  gathereth 
her  chickens  under  her  wings  and  ye  would  not" 
(Matt.   23:37).     But   this   word    of   Jesus   has   a 


deeper  meaning  than  even  an  outsider,  who 
admires  it,  thinks.  It  speaks  of  protection  -and 
compassion  for  the  sake  of  which  the  little  ones 
are  gathered  together.  It  implies  that  the  chickens 
belong  with  the  mother  hen.  And  except  they 
return  to  her  they  can  not  be  shielded  against 
cold  and  other  dangers.  The  striking  figure  indi- 
cates that  the  natural  place  of  refuge  for  the 
chickens  is  close  by  the  mother  hen.  And  that 
they  can  only  be  safe  and  warm  in  her  immediate 
presence  under  the  cover  of  her  outspread  wings. 

This  striking  word  of  our  Lord  was  borrowed 
from  the  figurative  language  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, which  also  in  turn  explains  it.  The  first 
verse  of  Psalm  91:  "He  that  dwelleth  in  the 
secret  place  of  the  Most  High,  shall  abide  under 
the  shadow  of  the  Almighty,"  is  an  instance  of 
this  metaphorical  representation.  It  is  the 
epitome  of  what  the  Psalmist  describes  elsewhere 
(61:4) :  ''I  will  trust  in  the  covert  of  Thy  wings." 
The  same  thought  was  expressed  by  the  wings  of 
the  cherubim  covering  the  mercy  seat  on  the  ark 
of  the  covenant.  It  is  ever  the  same  thought. 
God  has  created  the  fowl  that  lovingly  gathers 
her  brood  under  her  wings  that  she  might  shield 
and  shelter  them.  And  this  beautiful  figure  is 
held  before  us  that  we  might  seek  refuge  under 
the  shadow  of  the  Almighty,  and  trust  in  the 
covert  of  his  wings. 

This  imagery  is  not  borrowed  from  that  which 
moves  in  the  waters,  nor  from  that  which  glides 
along  the  ground.  It  is  almost  never  borrowed 
from  four-footed  beasts,  but  mainly  from  winged 
creatures  that  lift  themselves  above  the  earth,  and 
live,  as  it  were,  between  us  and  heaven. 

76 


The  angels  before  God's  throne  are  pictured 
with  wings  as  seraphs.  The  Holy  Ghost  came 
upon  the  Son  of  Man  descending  like  a  dove. 
The  secret  prayer  of  the  troubled  soul  is  that  it 
might  have  wings  to  fly  away.  That  winged 
creatures  should  be  used  as  symbols  to  express 
what  is  most  tender  and  affectionate  in  saintly 
character,  and  that  boldest  imagery  should  serve 
to  portray  what  it  is  "to  be  near  unto  God,"  to 
make  it,  as  it  were,  visible  to  our  eyes  and  per- 
ceptible to  our  feelings,  is  entirely  in  keeping  with 
the  order  of  creation.  It  corresponds  to  the 
divinely  appointed  state  of  things.  It  appeals  to 
us  as  altogether  natural.  But  this  symbolism 
must  not  be  taken  too  literally.  We  must  be  on 
our  guard  lest  sickly  mysticism  interprets  holy 
mysteries  to  us  in  a  material  way.  God  is 
Spirit.  Everj^  effort  to  be  in  touch  with  him, 
except  in  a  purely  spiritual  way,  avenges  itself. 
For  it  leads  either  to  idolatry  which  makes  an 
image  of  God  from  stone  or  precious  metal,  or  it 
loses  itself  in  pantheistic  mud,  wliich  inter- 
mingles spirit  and  matter,  and  ends  in  sensual 
excesses,  first  defiling  and  then  killing  what  spirit- 
uallj'  began. 

But  however  necessary  it  is  to  maintain  the 
spirituality  of  our  fellowship  with  God,  it  will  not 
do  to  take  spirituality  to  mean  unreality.  This, 
alas,  is  a  common  mistake  and  accounts  for  much 
spiritual  barrenness.  For  then  we  only  see  what 
is  before  our  eyes;  nature  round  about  us;  the 
blue  heavens  above  us;  our  body  with  its  sev- 
eral parts;  all  which  we  consider  real,  because 
they  have  form,  consist  of  matter,  are  tangible 
and    have    actual    existence.     Apart    and    distin- 

77 


guished  from  this  is  what  we  think,  what  we  pic- 
ture to  ourselves,  what  we  study  out  in  our  minds, 
what  we  take  as  the  abstract  world  of  thought. 
We  interpret  all  this  to  be  an  unreal  world,  the 
center  of  which  is  God.  An  infinite  Being  who 
exists  merely  in  our  thought,  in  our  mind,  in  our 
idea,  with  whom  there  is  no  fellowship  except 
along  the  avenue  of  thought.  But  this  provides 
no  mysticism  for  the  heart;  no  uniting  of  heart 
to  fear  the  name  of  God;  no  experience  of  secret 
fellowship  with  God.  If  God  does  not  exist  out- 
side of  our  thought,  the  self-sufficient  soul  can 
not  come  near  to  God,  nor  can  it  dwell  in  his 
tent. 

Every  deeply  spiritual  life  in  Holy  writ  protests 
against  this  danger.  Such  was  not  what  Psalmists 
and  prophets  experienced  of  God.  They  found 
Him  as  the  real  living  One  who  came  near  unto 
them,  and  bare  them  on  the  arms  of  his  ever- 
lasting compassions.  He  was  a  God  imto  them 
whose  love  they  felt  as  a  fire  burn  in  the  marrow 
of  their  bones,  with  whom  they  found  peace,  com- 
fort and  rest  for  their  weary  soul  as  they  realized 
that  He  sheltered  them  in  the  covert  of  his  wings 
and  allowed  them  to  abide  under  the  shadow  of 
the  Almighty. 

This  thrice  blessed  state  of  mind  and  heart  can 
not  be  analyzed.  It  must  be  experienced.  It  must 
be  tasted.  And  having  it,  it  must  be  guarded 
lest  it  is  lost  again  or  interrupted.  But  it  can  not 
be  analyzed,  interpreted  or  explained.  That 
would  give  place  to  the  wedge  of  criticism  and 
chill  the  warmth  that  fosters  it.  The  way  to 
obtain  it  is  to  learn  that  self-sufficiency  deceives. 
High-minded  self-sufficiency  is  the  canker  which 

78 


gnaws  at  the  root  of  all  religion.  It  is  the  futile 
dream  of  a  little,  insignificant  world,  of  which 
self  is  the  great  center,  whose  mind  understands 
everything,  whose  will  controls  everything,  whose 
money  can  buy  everything,  and  whose  power 
carries  everything  before  it.  This  makes  self  a 
miniature  god  in  a  little  temple.  In  this  sinful 
isolation  one  is,  of  necessity,  icy  cold,  frozen  away 
from  the  living  God  and  unfit  to  dwell  under  the 
shadow  of  his  wings. 

If  in  all  honesty  we  can  say:  Such  is  not  my 
case,  because  I  feel  my  dependence,  my  lack  of 
strength  and  my  utter  helplessness,  then  that  we 
might  have  fellowship  with  God,  we  must  unlearn 
our  sinful  leaning  on  people.  We  need  not  neces- 
sarily cut  ourselves  loose  from  every  one.  Far 
from  it.  The  faith  of  another  strengthens  ours. 
The  courage  of  another  shames  us  out  of  coward- 
ice. The  example  set  by  another  can  double  our 
strength.  We  are  disposed  to  society  both  in  mat- 
ters of  life  and  belief.  But  we  must  give  up  all 
sinful  dependence  upon  others.  Dependence  that 
takes  a  man  for  more  than  an  instmment  ap- 
pointed of  God  for  our  help,  as  long  as  he  allows 
it,  is  sinful.  We  must  not  build  on  man,  in  order 
when  human  help  fails  to  turn  to  the  Divine.  Our 
help  must  always  be  from  God,  whether  power  to 
save  springs  from  ourselves  or  comes  to  us  from 
without.  Even  in  this  way,  that  when  at  length  all 
human  help  fails,  nothing  is  lost.  For  the 
unchangeable  God  always  remains  the  same. 

This  assured  confidence  is  maintained,  as  long 
as  we  faithfully  endeavor  to  eradicate,  root  and 
branch,  the  doubt  v/hich  wearily  makes  us  ask 
whether   salvation   is   for   us.     To   entertain   this 


doubt,  even  for  a  moment,  imnen^es  and  breaks 
us  down.  Then  we  are  like  the  little  chicken  that 
anxiously  looks  around  for  the  mother  hen,  and 
not  finding  her  anywhere,  helplessly  flies  hither 
and  thither  until  snatched  away  by  the  hawk. 
Then  all  confidence  is  gone;  and  gone  the  percep- 
tion of  one's  calling  in  life;  and  gone  the  faith 
that  God  has  led  us  hitherto  and  shall  lead  us  to 
the  end.  Then  all  strength  fails.  And  prophecy 
is  dumb  in  the  heart.  Until  at  length,  in  despair, 
fellowship  with  Satan  becomes  more  natural  than 
the  secret  walk  with  God. 

The  Psalmist  not  only  glories  that  he  rests  in 
the  shadow  of  God,  but  also  that  he  hides  in  the 
shadow  of  the  Almighty.  This  must  needs  be 
added.  Compared  with  the  defenceless  chicken, 
the  mother  hen,  which  to  save  her  young  flies  the 
hawk  in  the  face  and  chases  him  away,  is  the 
symbol  of  a  power  that  reminds  us  of  Divine 
Omnipotence.  For  else  resting  on  the  Fatherheart 
of  God  avails  nothing.  He  who  rests  under  the 
shadow  of  God's  wings,  but  does  not  trust,  puts 
God  to  shame.  It  but  fosters  the  fear  that  one 
who  is  stronger  than  God  can  snatch  us  away  from 
under  the  Divine  protection.  When  we  are  far 
away  from  God,  unbelief  can  be  forgiven,  in  so  far 
as  we  fly  to  him  for  refuge.  But  when  we 
have  once  taken  refuge  with  him,  unbelief  in  the 
heart  is  a  fatal  wrong.  It  profanes  the  love  which 
God  looks  for  from  us.  The  blessed  peace,  the 
hallowed  rest,  the  childlike  confidence  which  God's 
elect  have  always  enjoyed,  even  in  seasons  of 
bitterest  trial,  is  not  the  result  of  reasoning.  It  is 
not  the  effect  of  deliverance.  It  is  solely  and 
alone  the  sweet  outcome  of  taking  refuge  in  the 

80 


secret  place  of  the  most  High,  of  abiding  under 
the  shadow  of  the  Almighty,  of  knowing  what  it 
means,  "To  Be  Near  Unto  God,"  and  of  enjoying 
it. 

If  then  we  have  thus  far  been  strangers  to  God, 
let  us  not  imagine,  that  in  time  of  danger,  when 
thunder-clouds  have  gathered  thickly  overhead, 
and  all  human  help  has  failed,  we  ciin  at  once  find 
refuge  in  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty.  This  has 
been  tried  in  the  hour  of  calamity  by  those  of  a 
transient  faith,  but  the  effort  has  proved  futile. 
It  is  here  the  other  waj^  The  secret  walk  with 
God  is  not  found  as  a  means  of  deliverance  in  the 
hour  of  need.  They  who  had  found  it  in  times 
of  prosperity  and  ease  knew  the  wings  under 
which  deliverance  would  be  sure.  And  when  they 
came  to  be  afflicted  and  grieved  they  found  rest 
and  safe  shelter  under  the  wings  of  God.  It  is 
not  the  case  of  a  hen  without  chickens,  which 
spreads  her  wings  for  whatever  would  hide  under 
them.  But  it  is  her  ovm  brood,  which  she  has 
hatched,  and  for  which  she  will  risk  her  life,  that 
finds  shelter  and  protection  with  her.  This  states 
the  case  of  the  shadow  under  the  wings  of  the 
Almighty.  They  whom  he  will  cover  with  his 
eternal  love  are  his  own  children.  These  are  they 
whom  he  calls  and  awaits.  These  are  they  that 
are  known  of  Him.  They  who  are  at  home  under 
the  wings  of  God  shall  in  the  hour  of  danger  dwell 
under  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty. 

16 

IN  THE  WIND  OF  THE  DAY. 

There  was  no  violence  in  the  displays  of  nature 
in  Paradise.    No  other  wind  blew  in  the  Garden. 

81 


of  Eden  than  the  soft  suction  of  air,  which  m 
warmer  climates,  occasions  the  morning  and  even- 
ing breeze.  Hence  there  is  no  mention  in  the 
narrative  of  Paradise  of  a  sudden  rise  of  wind,  but 
of  a  fixed,  periodical  one,  which  is  called  "A  Wind 
of  Day."  And  to  Adam  and  Eve  this  wind  of  day 
announced  the  approach  of  God. 

This  symbolism  is  still  understood.  Amidst  the 
luxuriant  stillness  of  Paradise,  where  ever>'thing 
breathes  calm  and  peace,  suddenly  a  soft  rustle  is 
heard  sounding  through  the  foliage.  Just  such  a 
sound  as  we  hear  when,  as  we  are  seated  near  by 
a  woodland,  some  one  approaches  us  through  the 
thickets,  pushing  aside  the  light  twigs  and  making 
the  leaves  tremble.  At  the  same  moment  when 
in  Paradise  that  rustle  is  heard  through  the  foliage, 
a  soft  breeze  plays  on  the  forehead  and  it  seems 
that  Adam  and  Eve  feel  themselves  gently  touched. 
And  with  that  quiet  rustling  and  this  refreshing 
breeze  there  comes  a  word  of  the  Lord  to  their 
soul.  And  thus  the  representation  arose  that  the 
voice  of  the  Lord  came  to  them  walking  in  the 
garden  in  the  wind  of  the  day. 

Thus  the  wind,  as  symbol  and  bearer  of  what  is 
holy,  has  gone  forth  from  Paradise  into  all  of 
revelation.  Of  God  it  is  said,  Ps.  104:3,  that  he 
'"Walketh  upon  the  wings  of  the  wind;"  that  he 
'"Did  fly  upon  the  wings  of  the  wind"  (Ps.  18:10). 
At  Pentecost  when  the  Holy  Ghost  came  to  the 
church  a  sound  was  heard  "from  heaven  as  of  a 
rushing  mighty  wind''  (Acts  2:2).  And  when 
Nicodemus  received  instruction  regarding  regen- 
eration, the  Savior  purposely  applied  the  smybol 
of  the  wind  to  God  the  Holy  Ghost.  "Thou 
hearest    the    sound    thereof    but    canst    not    tell 

82 


whence  it  cometh,  and  wither  it  goeth,"  and  such 
it  is  with  the  ISoly  Ghost. 

In  Northern  lands  like  ours,  where  the  wind  is 
an  ordinary  phenomenon,  this  impression  is  no 
longer  felt  so  strongly.  But  in  the  countries  where 
Revelation  had  its  rise  and  weather  conditions 
were  more  constant,  which  makes  the  rise  of  wind 
more  noticeable,  the  sound  of  the  wind  has  always 
as  of  itself  spoken  of  higher  things. 

Natural  philosophy  had  not  yet  made  a  study 
of  atmospheric  currents.  As  the  gale  arose  with 
dark  clouds  in  the  sky,  and  by  its  rumblings  made 
the  forests  to  tremble,  it  was  interpreted  as  coming 
from  above.  It  came  from  on  high.  It  came  as 
a  mysterious,  inexplicable  force.  It  was  felt,  but 
it  could  not  be  handled.  It  was  heard,  but  it  could 
not  be  seen.  It  was  an  enigmatic,  intangible 
power,  pushing  and  driving  everything  before  it. 
And  that  power  was  conceived  as  operating 
directh'  from  God  upon  man,  without  any  middle 
link,  as  though  in  the  gale  God  with  his  majesty 
bent  himself  over  him.  "The  Lord,"  said  Nahum 
(1:3),  hath  his  way  in  the  whirlwind,  and  the 
clouds  are  the  dust  of  his  feet." 

The  S3'mbol  of  the  wind  indicates  the  opposite 
of  that  of  the  temple.  For  this  speaks  to  us  of 
a  God  who  dwells  in  us,  as  in  a  sanctuary;  who  is 
not  far  off  but  near  by;  who  has  taken  up  his 
abode  in  the  heart,  and  who  from  its  depths 
rebukes,  directs  or  comforts  us.  And  so  the  temple 
represents  the  indwelling  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in 
the  Covert  of  the  heart.  It  represents  the  candor, 
tenderness  and  intimacy  of  fellowship.  And 
though  the  temple  may  have  a  veil  in  it,  and 
though   at   times   fellowship   with   the   indwelling 


spirit  may  be  interrupted,  the  renewal  of  love 
never  comes  from  without,  but  always  from  the 
depth  of  the  soul.  It  is  always  Immanuel,  God 
with  us;  in  Christ  with  all  his  people;  in  the  Holy 
Ghost  with  his  child. 

And  by  the  side  of  this  is  the  symbol  of  the 
wind.  Softly  the  wind  of  day  enters  Paradise.  At 
first  it  is  not.  It  arises  unobserved,  but  always 
from  without.  It  comes  to  man  who  does  not  at 
once  perceive  it.  At  first  there  is  separation  and 
duality.  The  symbol  of  the  wind  represents  man 
as  apart  from  God,  and  God  as  apart  from  man. 
And  the  approach  does  not  go  out  from  man  in 
prayer,  but  from  God  in  the  wind  of  the  day,  by 
which  He  betakes  himself  to  man,  presses  himself 
upon  him,  and  at  length  entirely  fills  him.  Both 
of  these  have  their  right  of  being.  Christian  piety 
m.ust  reckon  with  both.  He  alone  who  allows  both 
of  these  simultaneously  their  full  right  lives  in 
vital  communion  with  the  Eternal. 

The  difference  between  God  and  us  is  so  great 
in  every  way  that  of  ourselves  we  can  never  think 
of  God  otherwise  than  as  a  Being  who  is  highly 
exalted  above  us.  He  has  established  his  throne 
in  heaven  and  we  in  adoration  kneel  on  the  earth 
as  his  footstool.  This  relation  is  expressed  in  the 
symbol  of  the  wind.  From  the  clouds  above  the 
wind  strikes  down  upon  us  and  at  times  we  feel 
the  cutting  effects  of  it  in  the  very  marrow  of  our 
bones. 

There  is  also  a  free  communion  between  God 
and  his  child  which  annihilates  all  distance;  which 
abrogates  every  separation,  which  presses  after 
intimate  union,  and  that  relation  is  expressed  in 
the  symbol  of  the  temple.    Our  heart  is  a  temple 

84 


of  the  Spirit.  God  himself  dwells  in  the  inner- 
most recess  of  the  soul.  The  temple  stands  for 
the  overvN'helming  wealth  of  all-embracing  love; 
the  gale  remains  the  symbol  of  the  Majesty  of 
God.  And  only  when  both  of  these  operate 
purely,  each  within  its  own  domain,  there  is  the 
most  exalted  worship  of  God's  majesty,  together 
with  the  most  blessed  enjoyment  of  his  eternal 
Love. 

Thus  the  pendulum  of  the  inner  life  of  the  soul 
moves  ever  to  and  fro.  When  we  have  given  our- 
selves for  a  time  too  lightly  £.nd  too  easily  to  the 
sweetness  of  mysticism,  and  in  meditative  com- 
munion with  God  are  in  danger  of  losing  our  deep 
reverence  for  his  majesty,  we  must  needs  tear 
ourselves  away  from  this  hazy  mood  in  order  that 
we  may  the  better  recognize  again  the  holy 
supremacy  of  the  Lord  Jehovah  in  comparison 
with  the  littleness  and  insignificance  of  our  own 
finite  self.  And  when  on  the  other  hand  we  have 
been  for  a  time  greatly  affected  by  the  Majesty 
of  God,  so  that  we  know  full  well  that  the  High 
and  H0I3-  One  is  enthroned  in  glory,  but  feel  our- 
selves deserted  of  God  at  heart,  so  that  the  soul 
is  menaced  w^ith  the  loss  of  a  closer  touch  upon 
God,  then  likewise  with  an  effort  of  the  will  the 
frozen  heart  must  be  brought  under  the  softening 
influences  of  the  eternal  compassions,  so  that  com- 
munion with  the  eternal  may  be  renewed  and 
enjoyed  again. 

But  great  is  the  gain  when  this  motion  to  and 
fro  is  not  too  forcible,  and  when  the  intimacy  of 
the  ''Our  Father"  and  the  reverence  of  the  ''Which 
art  in  Heaven"  follow  each  other  rhythmically  in 
the  daily  experiences  of  the  inner  life.    A  purely 

85 


meditative  life  with  too  much  tenderness  in  it 
will  not  do.  He  who  gives  himself  to  this  weakens 
and  enervates  his  spiritual  nature,  becomes  unfit 
for  his  Divine  calling  in  the  world,  and  loses  even 
the  exhilirating  freshness  of  his  piety.  With  a 
healthful  state  of  heart  this  change  is  steady  and 
regiilar.  There  is  the  constajit  and  earnest  appli- 
cation to  our  work,  with  God  above  us,  from  whom 
comes  our  strength,  and  in  whom  stands  our  help. 
And  then  there  is  the  search  after  God  in  prayer, 
the  meditation  on  his  Word,  and  the  inner  tender- 
ness which  is  produced  by  the  motions  of  holy 
love.  Our  God  is  a  God  both  far  off  and  near  at 
hand. 

Thus  the  wind  of  the  day  has  more  than  a 
natural  significance.  Every  day  of  life  forms  a 
whole  by  itself.  And  in  all  the  daily  happenings 
there  is  a  plan  and  guidance  of  God.  And  so 
there  goes  a  wind  of  day  through  every  day  of 
life.  First  there  are  hours  when  nothing  speaks 
to  the  heart.  When  everything  loses  itself  in  ordi- 
nary occupations  and  it  seems  that  this  day  has 
no  message  for  us.  And  then  in  the  simplest  event 
sometimes  there  is  something  striking  that  rouses 
the  attention,  that  makes  one  think  and  one's 
thoughts  to  multiply;  something  that  a  child  calls 
out  to  us,  or  a  friend  whispers  in  the  ear;  some- 
thing that  suggests  itself  from  within  or  something 
that  we  hear,  something  that  was  reported  to  us 
or  that  happened  at  home  or  in  the  office ;  in  brief, 
anything  that  brought  color  and  outline  into  the 
dullness  of  existence  and  proved  itself  for  that 
particular  day,  "the  wind  of  the  day"  in  which 
God's  voice  was  heard. 

So  the  Lord  goes  out  every  day  seeking  after 


us.  So  the  voice  of  God  follows  us  after  through 
all  of  life,  to  woo  us,  to  interest  us,  and  to  win  us 
for  Himself.  Lost,  therefore,  is  each  day  in  which 
the  voice  of  God  passes  by  us  in  the  wind  of  the 
day,  but  leaves  us  unmoved  and  indifferent.  \^'Tiile 
blessed  in  turn  is  each  day  in  which  in  "'the  wind 
of  the  day"  God  comes  so  near  to  the  soul  that 
the  approach  turns  into  communion,  in  the 
intimacy  and  tenderness  of  which  with  fresh 
draughts  we  enjoy  again  the  unfailing  love  of  God. 

17 

'THOU  SETTEST  A  PRINT  UPON  THE 
ROOTS  OF  MY  FEET." 

We  are  always  repelled  in  Psalm  39  by  the  hard 
words  which  David  there  addresses  to  God :  Look 
away  from  me,  that  I  may  brighten  up.  For  can 
we  imagine  a  more  unnatural  prayer  than  this? 

Man  and  God  constitute  the  greatest  antithesis. 
And  all  true  religion,  springing  from  our  creation 
after  the  image  of  God,  aims  solely  and  alone  to 
put  man  into  closest  communion  with  God,  or 
where  this  communion  is  broken,  to  restore  it. 
And  here  the  Psalmist,  who  still  counts  as  the 
Singer  who  has  interpreted  piety  most  profoundly, 
prays  and  cries,  not  for  the  approach  of  God,  but 
that  God  will  look  away  from  his  soul,  that  He 
will  leave  him  alone,  give  him  rest,  and  so  refresh 
the  last  hours  of  his  life  before  dying:  "Hear  my 
prayer,  0  Lord,  hold  not  thy  peace  at  my  tears, 
look  away  from  me,  that  I  may  brighten  up, 
before  I  go  hence,  and  be  no  more."  (R.  V.  Marg. 
read.) 

In  Psalm  42  he  said:     "As  the  heart  panteth 

87 


after  the  water  brooks,  so  panteth  my  soul  after 
thee,  O  God,"  And  here  it  is  the  direct  opposite: 
''Turn  thee  away  from  me,  that  my  soul  may 
refresh  itself."  On  the  one  hand  intense  longing 
for  the  joy  of  the  presence  of  God,  and  on  the 
other  hand  the  crs^  of  agony  for  deliverance  from 
God's  presence.  Does  it  not  seem,  at  first,  that 
the  one  is  a  malediction  against  the  other? 

This  bitter  wail  of  David  does  not  stand  alone. 
In  the  book  of  Job  we  find  an  even  still  more 
painful  expression  for  this  crushing  consciousness 
of  the  presence  of  the  Lord,  when,  as  if  to  pour  out 
his  consuming  anguish  in  fullest  measure,  he 
despairingly  exclaims:  "Thou  puttest  my  feet  in 
the  stocks  and  thou  settest  a  print  upon  the  roots 
of  my  feet"  (13:27  Marg.  read). 

By  itself  there  is  nothing  strange  in  this  feeling. 
Even  godless  people  are  familiar  with  this  agoniz- 
ing dread.  When  mortal  danger  suddenly  over- 
takes them,  they  handle,  as  it  were,  with  their 
hands  the  power  of  God  which  presses  upon  them. 
In  case  of  shipwreck  in  the  open  sea  it  is  seen 
again  and  again  that  godless  sailors  who  but  a  few 
moments  before  over  their  wine-cups  were  making 
light  of  everything  that  is  holy,  suddenly  terror- 
stricken,  spring  from  their  seats  with  the  cry: 
"O  God,  0  God,"  and  pale  with  fear,  struggle  for 
their  lives. 

And  aside  from  these,  with  ordinary  people  who 
do  not  mock  at  religion  but  live  without  God  in 
the  world,  when  serious  sickness  comes  upon  them, 
or  some  other  disaster  overtakes  them,  we  see  the 
same  effect.  The}^  also  suddenlj^  become  aware 
at  such  a  time  that  they  have  to  do  with  the 
terrible  unknown  power  of  that  God  whom  they 


have  long  ignored,  and  they  tremble  in  their 
hearts. 

In  ordinary'  life  we  are  sufficient  unto  ourselves. 
We  extricate  ourselves  from  our  little  difficulties. 
We  have  the  means  at  command  to  provide 
against  special  needs.  We  know  how  to  rise 
above  simple  adversities.  And  when  they  are 
overcome,  the  triumph  deepens  the  sense  of  our 
self-sufficiency. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  we  feel  free,  uncon- 
strained and  unencumbered.  In  the  face  of  it  all 
we  are  our  own  lord  and  master.  We  feel  our- 
selves measureably  opposed,  but  we  push  it  aside 
and  bravely  we  continue  the  tenor  of  our  way. 

All  this,  however,  changes  when  anxieties,  dan- 
gers and  disasters  overtake  us,  which  overwhelm 
us,  which  we  have  no  strength  to  face,  which  noth- 
ing can  prevent,  and  in  the  midst  of  which  we 
become  suddenly  aware  of  our  utter  helplessness. 
Then  we  feel  that  we  are  attacked  by  a  superior 
force  that  overpowers  us,  that  casts  us  down,  that 
forces  itself  upon  us  and  makes  all  resistance 
ludicrous  and  futile.  This  superior  force  then  pre- 
sents itself  to  us  as  an  unseen  and  unknown 
opponent,  who  mysteriously  cuts  the  tendon  of 
our  strength,  binds  us  as  with  bainds  of  death,  dis- 
tresses and  perplexes  us  with  mortal  agonies,  and 
leaves  us  nothing  but  a  cry  of  terror.  And  how- 
ever much  the  world  has  been  estranged  from  God, 
even  in  the  hearts  of  the  most  hardened  sinners, 
there  is,  in  such  moments,  still  some  trembling  in 
the  presence  of  the  Divine  majesty.  There  are 
many  who  have  no  faith  in  God,  but  anxious  fore- 
bodings fill  their  minds,  that  they  are  yet  to  have 
dealings  with  him.     And  their  self-reproach,  that 


they  have  so  long  ignored  him,  adds  to  the  t-error 
of  their  fears. 

But  this  apprehension  of  dread  affects  the  godly 
man  most  strongly  when  faith  fails  him,  and  God 
momentarily  lets  him  go.  Then  it  seems  that  God 
loosens  his  hold  on  the  soul  and  at  the  same  time 
tightens  his  hold  more  firmly  on  the  body.  A 
man  like  Job  could  not  think  of  anything  that 
did  not  come  to  him  from  God.  He  had  long 
enjoyed  the  peace  of  God  which  passeth  all  under- 
standing. And  when  the  evil  day  came  and  loss 
followed  loss,  he  could  only  consider  them  as  so 
many  arrows  from  the  bow  of  divine  displeasure 
to  grieve  and  mortally  to  wound  him.  And 
because  Job  was  inwardly  pious,  it  could  not  end 
with  this.  At  first  he  thought  that  God  in  anger 
stood  far  off,  and  with  arrow  upon  arrow  wounded 
him  from  the  distance.  But  he  perceives  that  God 
comes  to  him,  and  at  length  personally  attacks 
him.  And  when  he  feels  that  God  has  come  upon 
him,  as  man  against  man,  that  He  attacks  him 
and  is  ready  to  throw  him,  his  fear  becomes  more 
striking.  A  tja'ant  attacking  Job  and  overcoming 
him  in  order  to  render  him  helpless,  might  at  most 
put  his  feet  in  stocks.  Now  that  God  attacks 
him,  this  can  not  be  the  end.  He  perceives  that 
God  not  only  faces  him  and  attacks  him  from 
without,  but  that  by  his  Almighty  power  God 
enters  into  his  inmost  soul,  goes  through  him 
altogether,  until  at  length  he  feels  himself  pene- 
trated to  his  feet,  even  to  the  roots  of  his  feet  by 
the  Almighty  One,  and  crushed  beneath  the 
weight  of  His  anger. 

Only  they  who  are  truly  pious  can  suffer  this 
mortal  agony.     Divine  anger  can  only  be  felt  in 

90 


this  way  by  those  who  all  their  life  have  been 
deeply  impressed  by  God's  power.  For  there  is  a 
two-fold  sense  of  God's  presence,  ^ow  m  b  essed 
fellowship  with  God.  And  again  in  the  awful  con- 
sciousness of  God's  terrible  presence  m  the  fears 
that  assail  us.  And  if  we  were  dealt  w'lth  after 
our  sins  and  according  to  our  deserts,  this  latter 
fellowship  would  be  our  only  portion,  even  fellow- 
ship with  God  in  his  holy  anger.  This  it  will  for- 
ever be  in  hell.     This  is  hell. 

Here  on  earth  diversion  and  all  sorts  of  meai^ 
are  at  our  command  to  put  the  thought  of  God 
away  from  us.  The  ungodly  enjoy  this  awful 
privilege  in  life  that  they  can  sm,  without  being 
troubled  in  their  conscience  for  more  than  a  few 
moments  at  a  time  by  the  presence  of  Almighty 
God  They  can  put  a  screen  between  them^selves 
and  God  and  thus  be  far  distant  from  him.  But 
not  so  in  eternitv.  There  they  stand  continually 
in  the  presence  of  God.  This  awful  consciousness 
of  God's  presence  will  be  the  worm  that  dieth 
not  and  the  fire  that  is  not  quenched. 

It  is  different  with  those  who  here  on  earth 
have  known  what  it  is  to  be  at  peace  with  God. 
They  have  experienced  divine  grace.  God  with- 
draws himself  in  their  behalf  in  such  a  way  that 
He  hides  his  anger  from  them  and  veils  his 
terrible  majesty.  Notwithstanding  their  sms.  He 
with  himself,  and  without  mortal  fear,  to  have 
fellowship  with  him.  The  screen  of  the  vanities 
of  this  world  does  not  stand  between  God  and 
those  who  fear  him,  but  Christ  the  Reconciler, 
the  Goel,  the  Mediator.  And  thus  already  here 
on  earth  sweet  and  blessed  communion  with  God 
in  Christ  can  be  enjoyed. 


91 


But  if  momentarily  faith  fails  us,  and  the  shield 
of  Christ  is  taken  away  from  before  us,  and  in  the 
midst  of  afflictions  we  feel  ourselves  suddenly  face 
to  face  again  with  the  naked  majesty  of  God  in 
his  anger,  the  agony  of  soul  in  God's  otherwise 
devoted  children  is  more  terrible  than  the  children 
of  the  world  have  ever  experienced  on  earth.  The 
child  of  God  is  then  caught,  as  it  were,  in  the 
snares  of  hell.  Such  was  the  case  with  Job.  This 
made  him  say:  "0,  My  God,  thou  settest  a  print 
in  the  roots  of  my  feet."  This  made  David  pray: 
"0  my  God,  look  away  from  me,  that  I  may  re- 
cover strength  before  I  die."  And  this  is  grace: 
that  in  such  moments  the  Comforter  comes  to  the 
soul,  that  the  shield  of  Christ  is  placed  again 
before  us,  and  that  God  who  made  his  anger  burn 
against  us,  reveals  himself  again  to  his  tempest- 
tossed  child  as  Abba  Father. 

18 

"MY  SHIELD." 

In  the  Dutch  national  hymn  the  words  are  still 
sung  by  patriotic  assemblages  and  in  the  streets, 
"My  Shield  and  Confidence,  Art  Thou,  O  Lord, 
My  God."  And  they  but  echo  the  Psalmist's  song 
(84:11):  "The  Lord  is  a  sun  and  shield:  The 
Lord  will  give  grace  and  glory:  No  good  thing 
will  he  withhold  from  them  that  walk  uprightly." 

As  a  means  of  defense  the  shield  has  passed  out 
makes  it  possible  for  them  to  become  acquamted 
of  use.  In  our  times  battles  are  fought  at  great 
distances,  with  cannons  and  rapid  firing  guns.  And 
safety  is  sought  in  lying  on  the  ground  or  in 
hiding  behind  breastworks.  But  even  when  David 

92 


wrote  the  Psalms  archers  were  few  and  fighting 
wa5  done  by  man  against  man  at  the  close  range 
of  eye  to  eye,  of  foot  touching  foot,  and  clashing 
of  swords.  And  such  combats  could  not  end  until 
one  of  the  two  assailants  was  bathed  in  his  own 
blood  In  such  times  the  shield  was  ones  lite. 
Without  a  shield  no  man  could  meet  another  in 
battle  who  carried  one.  Among  the  nations  of 
antiquity  a  shield  therefore  was  the  main  thing. 
Even  as  to  this  day  it  covers  the  African  savage 
when  he  makes  an  assault  with  his  assagai  l^or 
the  shield  catches  the  arrow,  breaks  the  blow  ot 
the  lans  and  parries  the  stroke  of  the  sword.  When 
many  thousands  in  Jerusalem,  who  m  their  day 
had  used  the  shield  and  had  saved  their  lives 
thereby,  joined  in  the  songs  of  Zion  and  gloried  m 
Jehovah  as  the  shield  of  their  confidence,  they  felt 
in  singing,  as  we  can  never  fully  appreciate:  What 
it  is,  and  what  it  means,  to  glory  in  God  as  a 

A  shield  was  a  cover  for  the  body.  It  was  not 
carried  by  another  in  front  of  the  combatant,  but 
was  carried  by  the  combatant  himself.  It  was 
held  with  the  left  hand.  It  rested  on  the  arm  and 
was  reallv  nothing  else  than  a  broademng  of  the 
same.  He  who  attacked  with  a  gun  involuntarily 
raises  his  arm,  with  which,  at  the  risk  of  having 
it  wounded,  he  covers  his  face  and  his  heart.  And 
not  to  expose  the  arm  in  such  encounters,  and  to 
protect  the  larger  part  of  the  body,  desire  to  save 
life  invented  the  shield.  First  the  long  shield 
which  covered  the  entire  length  of  the  body,  and 
then  the  short  shield,  or  buckler,  with  which  to 
parry  the  stroke  of  the  sword.  But  always  in  such 
a  way  that  the  soldier  carried  the  shield  himselt, 

!  93 


that  he  >moved  it  now  this  way,  then  that,  and 
held  it  out  against  the  attack. 

"The  Lord  is  my  shield"  does  not  say  therefore 
that  God  protects  us  from  a  distance  and  that  he 
covers  us  without  effort  on  our  part.  ''The  Lord 
is  my  shield,"  is  the  language  of  faith.  It  springs 
from  the  consciousness  that  God  is  near  at  hand, 
that  faith  lays  hold  on  him,  that  we  use  our  faith 
in  God,  that  therewith  we  resist  our  assailant,  and 
that  in  this  wa}'-,  being  one  with  God  through 
faith,  we  realize  that  we  are  covered  with  his 
Almighty  power. 

In  case  of  extremity  a  mother  can  stand  before 
her  child  and  cover  her  darling  with  her  own 
bodj'.  And  then  we  can  say  that  the  mother  is 
a  shield  to  her  child.  And  God  is  the  shield  of 
our  little  ones,  who  do  not  yet  know  him,  and 
who  can  not  yet  put  faith  in  him.  But  this 
sacred  imagers^  was  not  borrowed  from  this.  It 
was  suggested  by  the  soldier  who  in  many  a  hard 
and  bitter  fight  had  used  the  shield  himself  to 
the  saving  of  his  life.  Indeed,  the  shield  is  to  a 
man  what  wings  are  to  an  eagle.  With  the  trained 
warrior  the  shield  is,  as  it  were,  a  part  of  his 
bod}'.  It  is  one  with  his  arm.  And  his  fate  hangs 
by  his  dexterit}'  to  use  it.  And  so  the  Lord  is 
a  shield  to  those  who  trust  in  him,  to  those  who 
believe,  to  those  who  in  times  of  distress  and  want 
know  the  use  of  the  faith  which  never  fails,  and 
who  by  faith  understand  that  God  directs  their 
arm. 

The  shield  points  to  battle  and  to  the  struggle 
against  everything  that  threatens  to  destroy  us. 
God  is  our  shield  against  contagious  disease, 
against  the  forces  of  nature,  and  against  death  by 

94 


accident.  But  this  does  not  mean  that  we  are  to 
sit  down  passively  that  God  may  cover  us.  The 
imagery  of  the  shield  allows  no  such  interpreta- 
tion. On  the  contrary,  that  God  is  a  shield  against 
disease  and  pestilence,  against  flood  and  fire, 
means  that  with  the  utmost  of  our  powers  we 
must  apply  every  means  of  resistance  which  God 
has  placed  at  our  command;  that  in  prayer  we 
steel  our  powers  to  act,  and  that  by  faith  we  have 
God  for  our  shield,  which  we  must  turn  against 
our  assailants. 

This  applies  equally  to  the  interests  of  the  soul. 
Weak  interpretation  does  not  cover  the  case.  It 
will  not  do  to  say  that  we  must  avoid  sin.  No, 
we  must  strive  against  it.  We  must  understand 
that  in  sin  a  hostile  power  attacks  us;  that  the 
thinking,  planning  spirit  of  Satan  lurks  behind 
that  power;  that  unbeknown  to  us  it  forces  itself 
upon  us  and  aims  to  kill  the  soul ;  and  that,  unless 
we  have  a  shield  to  cover  us,  and  skill  to  use  it 
dexteriously,  it  will  surely  overpower  us.  God  is 
surely  more  our  shield  in  the  struggle  for  the  sal- 
vation of  the  soul  than  of  the  body.  But  it  means 
that  we  ourselves  must  do  battle  in  behalf  of  the 
soul;  that  we  ourselves  must  catch  the  eye  of  the 
assailant;  that  we  must  raise  the  sword  against 
him,  and  lift  up  the  shield  to  cover  the  soul.  That 
God  is  our  shield  in  this  spiritual  battle  means 
that  we  reach  out  our  hand  after  God,  that  we 
employ  every  spiritual  means  of  resistance  at  our 
command,  and  that  in  doing  so  we  discover  that 
God  is  the  shield  which  by  faith  we  hold  up 
against  Satan. 

We  speak  of  an  escutcheon,  by  which  we  mean 

95 


a  shield  on  which  the  man  who  owns  it  has  graved 
his  blazon.  This  is  a  sign  of  personal  recog- 
nition for  those  who  know  him,  and  it 
announces  who  hides  behind  it.  Thus  the  shield 
expresses  the  person  and  becomes  something  by 
itself.  It  becomes  a  personification.  Great  or 
small  powers  of  resistance  are  recognized  by  the 
shield.  And  in  this  way  God  is  the  shield  of  those 
who  put  their  trust  in  Him.  No  human  pride  has 
imaged  on  this  shield  a  lion — or  a  bull's  head.  But 
in  deep  humility,  in  trustful  meekness,  in  looking 
away  from  self  and  in  confidence  in  his  heavenly 
Father  the  man  of  faith  puts  on  this  shield  noth- 
ing but  the  name  of  Jehovah.  The  Lord  is  my 
shield :  this  is  holding  the  name  of  the  Lord  before 
the  forces  of  nature  and  the  powers  of  Satan.  It 
is  showing  the  world,  in  characters  of  flame,  that 
we  belong  to  the  armies  of  the  living  God.  That 
we  do  not  fight  alone  by  ourselves,  but  that  the 
Hero,  who  leads  us,  is  the  anointed  of  the  Lord. 
And  thereby  we  proclaim  that  the  highest  power 
of  every  human  soul  is  ours,  even  the  invincible 
power  of  faith. 

Thus  we  see  that  this  Scriptural  imagery  is 
deeply  significant.  We  already  saw  it  in  the  con- 
fession, that  the  Lord  is  the  Sun  of  our  life.  But 
here  we  see  that  God  is  our  shield  and  our 
buckler  in  the  fight  for  the  saving  of  our  life.  We 
also  learn  that  it  does  not  mean  anything  to  say: 
God  is  my  shield.  But  that  the  great  thing  is  that 
io  every  time  of  need  and  in  every  hour  of  battle 
this  holy  shield  is  not  left  hanging  on  the  wall, 
but  that  it  is  put  to  use  by  a  living,  zealous  and 
an  heroic  faith. 


19 

''IMMANUEL." 

Nothing  is  quite  so  much  of  an  obstacle  in  the 
way  of  communion  with  God  as  the  saying  of 
Jesus  to  the  Samaritan  woman  at  Sychar:  "God 
is  a  Spirit,  and  they  that  worship  him  must 
worship  him  in  spirit  and  in  truth"  (John  4:24). 
Our  representations  and  thoughts  begin  with  what 
we  see  and  hear,  smell  and  taste,  but  we  have  no 
hold  on  things  that  can  not  be  seen  and  handled. 
If  in  spite  of  this  we  want  to  talk  of  them  and 
imagine  what  they  are  like,  we  can  but  compare 
things  unseen  with  things  seen.  We  know 
that  we  have  a  soul,  but  no  one  has  ever  seen  it. 
The  question  where  in  our  person  the  soul  dwells 
can  only  approximately  be  answered.  Such  is  the 
case  with  the  spirit-world  and  the  souls  of  the 
departed.  Good  angels  and  bad  alike  are  without 
a  body.  They  have  neither  form  nor  appearance 
by  which  they  can  be  observed.  Whether  _an 
angel  needs  space,  no  one  knows.  Whether  in  illness 
our  sick-chamber  can  hold  a  thousand  angels  or 
not,  no  one  can  tell.  The  difficulty  only  lifts  itself 
when  they  receive  forms  in  which  to  appear  to  us. 
As  pure  spirits,  angels  are  not  discerned.  The  same 
applies  to  those  who  have  fallen  asleep  in  Jesus. 
The  dead  whose  bodies  are  in  the  grave  continue 
in  a  purely  spiritual  state,  until  the  coming  of  the 
Lord.  Meanwhile  we  can  form  no  idea  regarding 
them.  The  same  difficulty  presents  itself  when  we 
try  to  lift  up  our  heart 'to  God.  God  does  not 
reveal  himself  to  us  in  a  visible  form.  He  is  . 
invisible  because  He  is  Spirit  and  the  Father  of 

97 


spirits.  Along  the  way  of  ordinary  knowledge  and 
discovery  we  can  not  find  God.  Contact  of  soul 
with  God  takes  place  in  a  spiritual  manner.  It 
takes  place  of  itself  in  Immanuel. 

When  in  foreign  parts  we  unexpectedly  hear  our 
own  language  spoken  we  feel  at  home  at  once. 
This  is  because  we  feel  that  this  language  is  com- 
mon property  between  us  and  our  fellow  country- 
men. In  it  we  live.  By  it  they  come  closer  to  us 
than  others  who  only  speak  a  foreign  tongue.  This 
is  still  more  strongly  felt  with  regard  to  animals. 
Highly-organized  animals  come  very  close  to  man. 
There  often  is  a  remarkable  understanding 
between  a  shepherd  or  hunter  and  his  dog,  or 
between  a  rider  and  his  horse.  But  close  as  this 
approach  may  be,  an  altogether  different  and  far 
richer  world  opens  itself  to  us  when  we  meet  a 
fellow  man.  He  is  flesh  of  our  flesh,  bone  of  our 
bone,  with  a  soul  like  our  own.  And  this  creates 
fellowship  which  is  far  more  intimate  and  tender, 
especially  when  the  people  we  meet  are  of  like 
tastes  and  aims  of  life  with  ours.  There  are 
classes,  social  distinctions  and  other  divisions  in 
the  world  of  man.  And  if  anyone  would  become 
more  closely  acquainted  with  us  and  invite  mutual 
confidence,  he  should  be  one  of  our  class  and  be 
embarked,  as  it  were,  on  the  sea  of  life  in  the 
same  boat  with  us.  And  this  is  the  meaning  of 
Immanuel. 

In  the  Babe  of  Bethlehem  God  draws  near  to 
us  in  our  nature,  in  order  presently  in  our  lan- 
guage, through  the  medium  of  our  world  of 
thought  and  with  the  aid  of  our  representations 
to  make  his  presence  felt  in  the  heart,  in  accord- 


ance  with  the  perceptions  of  which  it  is  capable. 
He  draws  near  to  us  in  our  nature,  so  that  in 
order  to  find  God  we  do  not  need  to  go  out  from 
our  nature  and  enter  upon  a  purely  spiritual  exist- 
ence. Desirous  to  bless  us,  God  from  his  side 
makes  the  transition  which  he  spares  us.  We  do 
not  go  to  him,  but  he  comes  to  us.  We  need 
not  raise  ourselves  up  to  him,  but  he  comes  down 
to  us  that  afterwards  he  may  draw  us  up  to  him- 
self. He  enters  into  our  nature.  He  assumes  it 
and  cradles  in  the  Bethlehem  manger  with  an 
existence  which  human  nature  brings  with  it. 
Here  the  distance  between  God  and  us  is  removed. 
The  tension  and  effort  to  understand  it  purely 
spiritually  is  spared  us.  What  we  perceive  is 
human  nature.  What  presently  we  hear  is  human 
speech.  What  we  observe  are  utterances  of  human 
life.  An  unknown  brightness  plays  and  glistens 
through  it  all  and  behind  it  all,  a  mysterious 
higher  something,  a  something  altogether  holy. 
But  now  it  does  not  repel,  but  it  attracts  and 
charms  because  it  approaches  us  in  our  own 
human  nature.  The  human  nature  of  Immanuel 
is  not  merely  a  screen  to  temper  dazzling  glories, 
but  the  means  and  instrument  to  bring  Divine  life 
unaffectedly  and  intimately  near  to  the  heart.  It 
is  as  though  human  nature  in  us  unites  itself  with 
human  nature  in  Jesus  in  order  to  bring  God  into 
immediate  contact  with  the  soul. 

We  do  not  say  that  this  was  necessary  by 
itself.  The  fact  of  our  creation  after  the  Divine 
Image  seemed  to  give  us  every  requisite  for  fellow- 
ship with  God.  But  we  must  ever  remember  that 
sin   ruined   this   Image.     In   this   weakened    and 


ruined  estate  nothing  short  of  holy  grace  could 
fill  the  gap.  This  was  done  in  Immanuei,  in  the 
coming  of  God  to  us  in  the  garb  of  human  nature. 
Idolatry  proclaimed  the  need  of  this  when  it 
imaged  the  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth  after  the 
likeness  of  a  man.  Hence  Christianity  alone  can 
undo  idolatry  and  paganism,  since  in  Immanuei  it 
presents  the  true  Image  of  God  anew.  The  result 
itself  has  sealed  this.  In  Christ  alone  pure  fellow- 
ship with  the  living  God  has  been  realized  and 
gloriously  celebrated  in  Psalm  and  hymnody. 
Apart  from  Immanuei  we  have  philosophy  about 
God,  denial  of  God,  or  at  most  idolatry  and  cold 
Deism.  In  and  through  Immanuei  alone  there  is 
life  in  God  and  with  God,  full  of  warmth,  eleva- 
tion and  inspiration.  In  Immanuei  God  draws 
near  to  us  in  our  own  nature  and  through 
Immanuei  the  soul  mounts  from  this  nature 
spiritually  up  to  the  Father  of  spirits. 

In  Immanuei  we  have  the  way,  but  not  the 
goal.  It  begins  with  Jesus,  but  in  the  end  the 
Father  himself  makes  tabernacle  with  us  and  the 
day  breaks  of  which  Jesus  said:  "In  that  day  I 
say  not  unto  you  that  I  will  pray  the  Father  for 
you,  for  the  Father  himself  loveth  you."  Then 
also  the  abundant  activity  of  the  Holy  Ghost  will 
unfold  itself,  even  of  the  Comforter  who  could 
not  come  until  after  Jesus  had  been  glorified. 
Let  there  not  be  anything  artificial  therefore  or 
conventional  in  our  seeking  after  God.  No  wilful, 
premeditated  going  out  after  Jesus  to  have  fel- 
lowship with  God.  Immanuei  brings  us  reconcilia- 
tion, so  that  we  dare  to  draw  near  again.  He 
brings  the  Divine  in  human  nature  so  that  we  can 
draw   near  again.     We   owe  him  the  Word,  the 


world  of  thoughts  and  representations,  the  blessed 
results  of  his  work  that  are  showered  down  upon 
us,  and  the  supply  of  powers  of  the  Kingdom 
which  inwardly  renew  us.  But  underneath  it  all, 
personal  contact,  real  fellowship  with  God,  is 
always  a  hidden,  spiritual  motion,  so  that  inwardly 
we  hear  his  voice  and  we  can  say  with  Job: 
"Now  mine  eye  seeth  thee."  This  is  fellowship 
with  God  as  man  with  man.    As  Jacob  at  Peniel. 

20 

"IN  THE  LIGHT  OF  THY  COUN- 
TENANCE." 

In  moments  of  intense  joy  the  human  face  is 
radiant.  When  the  soul  is  depressed,  the  face  is 
sad,  the  eye  is  dark  and  it  seems  that  instead  of 
showing  itself  in  the  face  and  speaking  through  it, 
the  soul  has  turned  it  into  a  mask  behind  which 
to  hide  itself.  We  see  a  connection  therefore 
between  joy  and  bright  colors;  between  sorrow 
and  half-tints,  until  mourning  expresses  itself  in 
black. 

The  same  antithesis  meets  us  when  we  enter 
the  world  of  spirits.  Satan  is  pictured  in  somber 
colors,  while  good  angels  are  always  seen  as 
kindly  appearances  of  light.  In  the  house  of  many 
mansions  there  is  everlasting  light ;  for  Satan  there 
is  outer  darkness.  The  righteous  shall  shine  as 
the  sun  in  the  firmament,  clothed  in  garments  of 
light.  On  Patmos  Christ  appears  to  John  in  blind- 
ing glory. 

This  beautiful  thought  of  light  as  the  expres- 
sion of  things  that  are  pure  and  true  and  glorious, 
was    bound    to    present    itself    in    the    world    of 

101 


worship  by  application  to  God's  majesty.  God  is 
light.  In  Him  is  no  darkness  at  all.  He  dwells 
in  light  unapproachable,  and  Father  of  lights  is 
his  name.  After  the  creation,  therefore,  when 
"darkness  was  upon  the  face  of  the  deep,"  God 
could  not  appear  in  the  created  world  without 
first  sending  forth  the  command:  ''Let  there  be 
light,"  and  then  there  was  light.  The  majesty  of 
God  revealed  itself  in  a  column  of  fire  at  the  Red 
Sea.  i.nd  in  a  cloud  of  light  in  Solomon's  Temple. 
When  Moses  was  to  be  marked  in  a  special  w^ay 
as  the  Lord's  ambassador,  his  face  shone  with 
blinding  splendor.  The  Savior  showed  himself  on 
Tabor  m  light  of  glistening  brightness.  And  in 
the  descriptions  of  the  New  Jerusalem  the  climax 
of  its  splendor  is  that  there  shall  be  no  more  sun 
nor  moon  there,  for  that  by  his  benign  presence 
God  himself  shall  lighten  the  world  of  glory. 

Sacred  art  has  long  expressed  this  by  represent- 
ing the  head  of  Christ  and  of  saints  surrounded 
by  an  halo  and  their  form  in  glistening  robes.  We 
do  not  treat  this  here  from  its  material  side.  It 
is  well  known  that  certain  people,  who  are  strongly 
impregnated  with  magnetism,  are  able  to  make 
electric  rays  of  light  go  out  from  their  finger  tips. 
We  need  not  doubt  that  radiancy  of  face  in 
moments  of  great  joy  is  connected  with  natural 
operations.  But  the  source  of  this  facial  light  is 
not  in  the  magnetic  current,  but  in  the  spirit,  in 
the  soul,  and  all  the  rest  is  used  merely  as  vehicle 
and  means  of  direction. 

He  who  watches  a  child,  which  never  hides  any- 
thing, an  enthusiastic  child  with  rosy  cheeks,  in 
such  moments  of  great  gladness,  observes  in  the 
outward  play  of  countenance  that  the  eyes  dilate 
102 


and  increase  in  brightness;  that  the  facial  color 
heightens  so  that  it  shines  through  and  radiates, 
and  that  especially  by  great  mobility  the  soul 
reflects  itself  in  the  face.  This  reflection  in  part 
is  even  permanent.  Alongside  of  the  noble  coun- 
tenance of  self-sacrificing  piety,  there  is  the 
brutish,  dull,  expressionless  face  of  the  sensualist. 
In  the  case  of  young,  delicate  persons  especially, 
who  have  the  fire  of  youth  in  their  eye  and  whose 
complexion  is  transparent,  the  expression  of  the 
nobility  of  soul  in  the  face  is  sometimes  unsur- 
passably  sympathetic  in  its  colorings. 

Thus  the  sacred  language  which  speaks  of  "walk- 
ing in  the  light  of  God's  countenance"  (Ps.  89:15), 
is  naturally  explained  by  life  itself.  With  God 
everything  material  falls  away.  But  the  rich,  full 
expression  of  the  spiritual  and  the  essential 
remains.  God  can  not  step  outside  of  his  hiding 
except  as  everything  that  reveals  itself  is  majesty, 
radiancy,  animation  and  glor}'.  That  this  may 
also  be  a  revelation  in  anger,  is  self-evident.  But 
this  we  let  pass.  We  deal  with  the  fact  that  there 
is  a  soul  which  seeks  after  God,  and  finds  God, 
and  whi<;h,  happy  in  this  finding,  looks  into  his 
holy  face  and  drinks  in  everything  it  reads  there. 
This  brings  but  one  experience,  which  is  that  no 
darkness  proceeds  from  God  but  only  light,  soft, 
undulating,  refreshing  light  in  which  the  flower- 
bud  of  the  heart  unfolds  itself. 

This  is  the  first  effect.  Gloomy  people  may  be 
pious,  but  they  do  not  know  the  daily  tryst  with 
God.  They  do  not  see  God  in  the  light  of  his 
countenance,  and  do  not  walk  in  it.  Even  when 
they  who  in  other  ways  are  brave  and  heroic  get 
dark  lines  in  their  face,  it  only  shows  that  they 

103 


are  out  of  the  light  of  God's  countenance  and  are 
striving  to  regain  it.  Even  among  us  a  kind  face, 
beaming  with  sympathy,  is  irresistable  and  draws 
out  the  light  from  the  face  of  others,  which 
expresses  itself  first  of  all  in  a  generous  smile. 

But  this  is  much  stronger  with  the  Lord.  We 
can  not  look  at  God  in  the  light  of  his  coun- 
tenance without  having  the  gloom  of  our  faces 
give  place  to  higher  relaxation.  For  in  the  light 
of  God's  countenance  we  know  Him.  When  it 
shines  out,  his  spirit  draws  near  to  make  us  see, 
observe  and  feel  what  God  is  to  us.  Not  in  a  doc- 
trinal way,  not  in  a  point  of  creed,  but  in  utter- 
ances of  the  spirit  of  unnamable  grace  and  mercy, 
of  overwhelming  love  and  tenderness,  and  of 
Divine  compassion,  which  enters  every  wound  of 
the  soul  at  once  and  anoints  it  with  holy  balm. 

The  light  of  God's  countenance  shining  on  us 
compasses  us  about  and  closes  us  in.  It  lifts  us 
up  into  a  higher  sphere  of  light.  And  as  on  the 
wings  of  it  we  feel  ourselves  carried  by  the  care, 
the  providence  and  almighty  power  of  God.  In 
the  light  of  God's  countenance  everything,  our 
whole  life  included,  becomes  transparent  to  us, 
and  through  every  Golgotha  we  see  the  glory  that 
looms  up  from  it.  The  light  of  God's  countenance 
shines  through  us  and  leaves  nothing  covered  in 
us  of  the  sins  that  are  covered  by  grace.  This 
can  not  be  otherwise,  for  the  moment  we  are 
aware  that  the  light  of  God's  face  shines  through 
our  person,  all  hiding  of  sin  is  futile.  Differently 
than  X-rays,  it  shines  through  our  whole  heart 
and  life,  including  our  past.  Nothing  is  spared. 
It  is  an  all-penetrating  light  which  nothing  can 
arrest. 

104 


Thus  the  hght  of  God's  countenance  ought  to 
frighten  us,  and  yet — it  does  not.  And  it  can  not 
do  this,  because  it  lays  bare  to  us  the  fulness  of 
grace  which  is  alive  in  the  Father-heart  of  God. 
When  anyone  does  not  believe  in  the  entire  for- 
giveness of  sm,  God  hides  his  face  from  him. 
Only  when  faith  in  the  atonement  operates  in  full 
does  the  light  of  the  Divine  countenance  shine 
upon,  compass  and  penetrate  us. 

And  then  comes  the  "walking  in  that  light." 
Walking  here  implies  that  not  only  occasionally 
we  catch  a  beam  of  the  light  of  the  Divine  coun- 
tenance, but  that  it  has  become  permanent  for  us. 
That  is,  it  is  there  for  our  good,  even  when  we 
do  not  think  of  it,  and  that  we  regain  it  every 
time  our  soul  longs  for  it.  And  so  we  continue 
to  walk  the  pathway  of  our  life,  from  day  to  day, 
in  the  light  of  the  Divine  countenance.  No  longer 
inspired  by  our  own  phantasies,  no  more  spurred 
on  by  the  ideals  of  the  world,  which  have  shown 
themselves  deceptive,  and  no  longer  with  a  dark 
heaven  above  us,  in  which  at  most  a  single  star 
still  glitters,  but  we  go  on  by  the  light  which  is 
above  the  light  of  the  sun  and  by  the  outshining 
of  ever  fuller  grace  in  the  light  of  the  countenance 
of  God. 

21 

SEEK  THY  SERVANT. 

The  searchlight,  projected  from  the  tower  across 
city  and  plain,  is  a  striking  image  of  the  flashing 
of  the  All-seeing  Eye.  A  bundle  of  white,  soft, 
clear  light  darts  out  into  the  darkness,  with  the 
velocity  of  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  from  a  single 

105 


point  as  its  source.  5i)reads  itself  over  an  ever- 
widening  surface  across  the  connriy  below,  and  at 
once  every  object  in  the  track  of  that  light  comes 
out  in  clear  sight.  Nothing  remains  hidden.  And 
so  the  heart-  and  soul-searching  light  from  the  All- 
seeing  Eye  above  shines  forth  into  the  deepest 
folds  of  the  conscience. 

But  the  Psalmist  does  not  mean  this  seeking  and 
searching  when  he  prays.  "Seek,  Lord,  thy 
Ser^'-ant."  The  figure  which  the  Scripture  here 
uses  is  that  of  the  shepherd,  wandering  among  the 
hills  and  seeking  the  lamb  that  strayed  from  the 
flock  and  is  lost.  Thus  the  Psalmist  himself 
explains  it  (119:176):  "I  have  gone  astray  like  a 
lost  sheep;  seek  thy  servant;  for  I  do  not  forget 
thy  commandments."  And  this  figure  from  the 
country-life  stands  much  higher  than  that  which 
is  bon-owed  from  the  searchlight.  Here  love  is 
the  appreciation  of  having  again  what  was  lost, 
the  impotence  to  let  go  what  belongs  to  the  flock, 
and  the  motive  of  the  search,  or  rather  the  stim- 
ulating, impelling  passion  of  the  heart. 

And  here  is  reciprocity.  The  lost  sheep  bleats 
helplessly  for  the  shepherd,  and  the  shepherd 
scans  the  mountain  path  to  find  it.  The  lost  sheep 
wants  to  be  found  and  the  shepherd  wants  to  find 
it.  Its  bleating  is  a  call :  "Seek  me,  0  shepherd," 
and  by  bleating  it  co-operates  in  the  finding. 
Such  is  the  Psalmist's  cry:  "Seek  thy  Servant;" 
a  prayer  that  he  might  be  found,  which  is  at  the 
same  time  an  utterance  of  the  soul  that  makes  the 
finding  possible. 

No  child  of  the  world  prays  this  prayer,  neither 
the  man  who,  far  distant  from  God.  is  engrossed 
in  the  pursuit  of  wealth,  nor  he  who  worships  him- 


self  in  his  heart  as  his  own  idol.  There  is  no  ref- 
erence here  to  the  unconverted.  He  who  here 
prays  knows  that  he  has  become  God's  servant, 
that  he  has  entered  into  the  service  of  the 
Almighty;  that  he  has  been  with  God,  and  that 
he  has  strayed  away  from  him.  This  is  clearly 
expressed  in  the  image  of  the  shepherd  with  the 
lamb.  That  which  has  wandered  away  from  the 
flock  has  been  with  it.  That  which  calls  for  the 
shepherd  has  known  him.  ''Seek  thy  servant," 
is  the  direct  prayer  of  the  child  of  God  who  has 
known  his  Heavenly  Father  in  his  love,  and  who 
now  for  want  of  this  love  feels  himself  deserted 
and  sick  at  heart  and  longs  again  for  the  tender 
enjoyment  which  he  has  tasted  in  the  presence  of 
his  God. 

Do  not  misunderstand  therefore  the  real  mean- 
ing of  this  cry  of  distress.  It  is  not  a  call  for 
conversion,  but  for  return.  No  unconverted  soul 
can  do  this.  He  who  so  calls  fell  away  from  a 
love  that  had  once  been  found  and  with  all  the 
tender  yearnings  of  that  lost  love  he  wants  it 
back. 

This  is  of  frequent  occurrence.  A  man  had 
entered  in  through  the  narrow  gate.  He  saw  his 
path  sown  with  higher  light.  The  feeling  of  the 
new  life  filled  his  heart.  Powers  of  the  Kingdom 
coursed  through  the  arteries  of  the  soul.  He 
understood  what  he  lived  for.  The  cup  of  recon- 
ciliation was  handed  him  full  to  the  brim.  He 
rejoiced  in  his  Savior.  And  in  a  most  blessed  way 
the  holy  intimate  life  of  fellowship  with  God  in 
Christ  -  unfolded  itself  within.  But  this  did  not 
continue.  Fog  rose  across  the  inner  sky.  From 
following  the  right  way  it  came  to  wandering,  and 

107 


from  wandering  to  wandering  away.  And  then 
everything  became  uncertain,  restless  and  comfort- 
less. Influences  from  beneath  repressed  holy  influ- 
ences from  above.  God  seemed  far  removed  from 
him.  The  tie  of  faith  in  Christ  which  was  once 
so  firmly  strung,  was  weak.  It  was  dark  for  the 
soul  and  in  this  darkness  the  heart  began  to  feel 
lonely  and  forsaken,  till  it  could  endure  it  no 
longer  and  longed  after  God  again  and  tried  to 
seek  him  back. 

But  seeking  was  not  followed  by  finding.  No 
signs  marked  off  the  path.  Going  this  way  and 
now  that  the  soul  remained  equally  far  removed 
from  God,  or  wandered  at  length  still  farther  away 
from  him.  When  once  we  have  been  enriched 
with  the  love  of  God  it  is  not  given  us  to  play 
with  it;  first  to  win  it,  then  to  let  it  go,  and  then 
to  take  it  back  again  at  pleasure.  He  who  has 
known  the  Lord  and  afterward  has  forsaken  him 
does  not  of  himself  find  him  again.  And  so  we 
learn  to  know  our  lack  of  saving  power.  We  can 
not  save  ourselves.  But  we  retain  the  deep  con- 
sciousness that  we  can  not  do  without  God;  that 
the  want  of  his  love  creates  an  aching  void  in 
the  heart,  until  finally  it  becomes  a  matter  of  con- 
viction: I  can  not  seek  God  back,  but  God  can 
seek  me  again.  And  then  follows  the  anxious 
bleating  of  the  wandering  sheep.  A  call  from  the 
depth  of  the  soul  upon  God  whom  he  has  lost,  the 
prayer,  the  supplication:  O  God,  seek  thy 
servant. 

This  longing  desire  to  find  God  back  takes  a 
wonderful  hold  sometimes  upon  the  human  heart. 
There  are  those  whom  God  allowed,  while  they 
were  yet  children,  and  thus  but  partly  known  to 

108 


themselves,  to  feel  his  lov^e;  that  He  regenerated 
them,  but  that  conscious  faith  did  not  reach  the 
fuller  knowledge  of  his  name.  This  led  to  the 
unusual  condition  that  God  worked  inwardly  with 
his  power,  but  that  in  spite  of  it  doubt  filled  the 
heart  and  mind.  We  have  all  known  certain  peo- 
ple who  were  not  able  to  believe,  but  whose  noble 
qualities  of  mind  and  heart  were  both  interesting 
and  refreshing.  They  were  frequently  far  more 
attractive  than  many  confessed  believers.  They 
were  flowers  in  the  bud,  which  could  not  come  to 
bloom,  but  even  then  the  half-opened  bud 
exhaled  sweet  fragrance.  Inwardly  they  were  con- 
sumed with  longing  after  God,  but  they  did  not 
understand  their  own  desires.  They  did  not  know 
that  they  already  belonged  to  God,  though  at 
times  they  were  conscious  of  nameless  drawings 
after  him.  And  they  do  not  pray,  but  others  who 
can,  pray  for  them:  Lord,  seek  this  thy  servant, 
seek  this  thine  handmaid.  For  every  utterance 
of  their  lives  proves  that  they  are  thy  servants. 
They  are  children  of  the  family  of  faith.  Onl\' 
they  have  not  as  yet  discovered  their  Father. 
And  as  long  as  this  is  not  a  prayer  from  the  lips 
alone,  but  from  the  heart,  it  is  heard  both  in 
behalf  of  ourselves  and  of  those  the  burden  of 
whose  salvation  the  Lord  has  laid  upon  us.  For 
then  God  seeks  them,  and  finds  them,  and  gives 
himself  to  be  found  of  them. 

How  this  takes  place  no  one  can  tell.  To  this 
end  God  uses  at  one  time  a  man's  natural  lot  in 
life;  at  another  time  a  written  thought  which  he 
drives  home,  or  some  striking  word  which  he 
makes  us  hear.  To  this  end  he  works  by  means 
of  affliction  that  heavily  burden,  the  heart;   by 


means  of  hard  and  perilous  times,  which  try  us  to 
the  utmost;  by  contact  with  different  people  who 
are  met  by  the  way;  by  impressions  of  angels 
that  hover  about  us  at  his  command,  and  by  his 
secret  workings  in  the  heart.  It  is  an  embroider- 
ing which  God  works  upon  the  soul  in  all  sorts 
of  colors  and  forms.  But  however  different  and 
inscrutable  these  operations  maj-  be,  the  outcome 
i.s  assured.  God  seeks  us.  He  finds  us.  And  at 
length  we  discover  that  we  have  been  found.  For 
then  God's  presence  in  the  heart  is  vitally  enjoyed 
again. 

In  the  seeking  of  our  God  let  us  not  hinder  the 
finding.  Not  merely  doubt,  but  even  the  inclin- 
ation to  prefer  doubt  to  assurance  is  sin  against 
the  love  of  God.  When  the  Lord  seeks  you  and 
laj's  his  hand  upon  your  shoulder,  do  not  draw 
back.  Kneel  at  his  feet.  Offer  thanks  to  him 
and  worship. 

22 

STRENGTHENED  WITH  MIGHT. 

It  is  no  longer  doubted  that  atmospheric  con- 
ditions vitally  affect  health.  Fresh  air  builds  up 
and  invigorates.  They  who  breathe  pure  moun- 
tain air  have  iron  in  the  blood,  while  they  who 
live  in  low  and  marshy  regions  breathe  air  that 
is  impregnated  with  poisons  from  the  swamps,  so 
that  their  strength  is  sapped  and  their  vital 
forces  are  weakened.  It  can  not  be  otherwise. 
With  every  breath  we  take  in  air  with  everything 
it  contains,  and  through  countless  pores  in  the  skin 
we  absorb  atmospheric  elements  which  open  the 
way  to  influences  that  affect  the  constitution.  The 
pale  and  the  anaemic  are  constantly  advised  there- 
no  ^ 


fore  to  seek  fresh  air  and  a  healthy  atmosphere. 
In  hot  and  sultry  summer  days  we  pant  for  the 
relief  which  evening  brings.  And  they  who  are 
in  easy  reach  of  the  shore  revel  in  the  cool 
invigorating  air  of  the  sea. 

And  since  we  are  two-sided,  that  is  to  say,  since 
we  consist  of  body  and  soul,  the  atmospheric  influ- 
ence upon  our  physical  health  finds  a  counterpart 
in  the  effects  of  the  moral  character  of  our  sur- 
roundings upon  our  moral  development.  This, 
too,  is  above  question.  Sad  and  joyous  events 
continually  show  that  low  moral  standards  in  life 
injure  character,  while  moral  and  healthy  environ- 
ments quicken  our  own  moral  sense.  In  education 
the  light  and  shadow  sides  are  largely  dominated 
by  this  atmospheric  influence.  The  secret  of 
mother  influence  upon  the  early  formation  of 
character  is  largely  due  to  the  fact  that  childhood 
days  are  almost  entirely  spent  in  her  constant 
presence.  The  moral  life  also  has  laws  of  its  own. 
It  expresses  itself  in  acts  and  in  events.  It  re- 
flects itself  in  writings  and  in  conversations.  But 
apart  from  all  this,  moral  life  is  still  something 
else.  It  is  even  a  sort  of  moral  skj'-,  a  moral  at- 
mosphere which  is  either  healthy  and  bracing, 
poisonous  and  hurtful  or  neutral  and  weakening. 
However  strong  our  character  may  be,  the  in- 
fluences of  this  moral  atmosphere  work  out  our 
spiritual  benefit  or  bane. 

Nor  is  this  all.  Not  only  does  the  air  which  we 
breathe  affect  our  bodily  health,  and  not  only  does 
our  moral  environment  shape  our  moral  life,  but 
a  personal  atmosphere  also  affects  us  strongly. 
Close  fellowship  with  world-minded  people  clo-^e 
fellowship  with  people  who  are  worldly-mmded  and 
111 


oi  little  elevation  of  character  degrades  us.  Daily 
intercourse  with  people  of  nobler  disposition,  of 
more  seriousness  of  thought,  and  of  holier  aims  in 
life,  spin-  us  on  to  better  things  ourselves.  A  good 
man  is  like  a  good  genius  to  us.  Pure  environ- 
ments hold  us  back  from  things  that  pull  us  down. 
We  notice  this  particularly  in  the  case  of  men  of 
sterling  qualities  and  women  of  dominant  spirits. 
They  exert  a  power  of  attraction  upon  each  other 
which  tends  to  make  them  alike.  One  is  stronger 
than  the  other,  and  the  stronger  is  bound  to  mould 
the  weaker  into  likeness  with  himself.  Imitation 
is  a  fundamental  trait  of  human  nature  and  grad- 
ually and  involuntarily  the  weaker  inclines  to  do 
and  to  be  like  the  stronger,  which  extends  some- 
times even  to  the  inflection  of  the  voice  and  to 
the  manner  of  conversation.  And  this  personal 
influence  leads  of  itself  to  religious  influence, 
which  is  entirely  apart  from  the  moral.  At  heart 
all  religion  is  personal.  Moses  put  his  stamp  upon 
all  Israel.  The  Gospel  has  been  carried  into  the 
world  by  the  Apostles.  Augustin  inspired  the 
Middle  Ages.  Luther  and  Calvin  are  spiritual 
fathers  of  the  Reformation.  And  to  this  day  in 
every  community,  large  or  small,  where  a  strongly 
inspired,  religious  life  dominates,  the  persons  can 
be  pointed  out  from  whom  this  healthy,  bracing 
atmosphere  has  emanated.  Fire  in  the  heart  of 
one  strikes  fire  in  the  heart  of  the  other.  A  devout 
Christian  life  wins  the  souls  of  its  associates  for 
God. 

Now  we  reach  the  highest  round  of  the  ladder, 
of  which  as  a  rule  too  little  account  is  taken.  We 
may  breathe  mountain  or  sea  air.  We  may  drink 
in  the  moral  atmosphere  of  our  environment.    We 

112 


may  partake  of  the  inspiration  that  goes  forth 
from  a  finely-strung  nature  among  our  fellow  men. 
But  the  highest  of  all,  the  influence  of  which  for 
real  strengthening  of  heart  far  exceeds  all  others, 
is  the  secret  walk  with  God.  Paul  prays  for  the 
Ephesians  (3:16)  that  they  might  be  strengthened 
with  might  by  his  Spirit  in  the  inner  man.  This  is 
the  highest  and  holiest  atmosphere  that  can  and 
ought  to  inwork  on  us.  Imagine  that  our  Lord 
were  still  on  earth  and  that  every  day  for  a  month 
we  could  be  with  Him,  we  would  breathe  an 
atmosphere  of  exalted  and  holy  living,  which  in 
an  altogether  unequalled  way,  would  strengthen  us 
with  might  in  the  inner  man.  It  was  the  privilege 
of  the  Apostles,  exceeding  every  other,  to  spend 
three  years  in  this  holy  atmosphere,  and  look,  with 
what  strength  in  the  inner  man  they  went  out 
into  the  world.  This  is  impossible  now.  Jesus  is 
no  more  known  after  the  flesh.  But  through  him 
we  have  access  to  the  Father,  and  through  him 
we  can  have  daily,  personal,  secret  fellowship  with 
God. 

If  we  think  that  everything  ends  with  the  brief 
moment  of  prayer,  we  remain  but  a  short  time  in 
this  holy  atmosphere.  Average  prayer,  as  a  rule, 
does  not  cover  more  than  half  an  hour  out  of 
every  twenty-four.  This  is  not  the  way  the  Scrip- 
ture takes  it.  David  sang:  "I  will  dwell  in  the 
house  of  the  Lord  for  ever,"  (Ps.  23:6).  Both 
before  and  since  this  royal  harper  the  saints  who 
have  sought  and  found  and  known  and  enjoyed 
the  secret  walk  with  God  have  always  understood 
that  it  means  repeated  thought  of  God,  constant 
lifting  up  of  soul  to  him,  considering  all  things 
with  an  eye  to  him  who  loves  us,  ever  dwelling 

113 


near  unto  him,  continual  consciousness  of  his 
holy,  encouraging  and  inspiring  presence,  personal 
realization  of  God's  nearness  on  every  side,  with 
all  of  life  immersed,  as  it  were,  in  the  glory  that 
shines  out  from  the  Divine  Being,  and  feeling  in 
the  heart  the  throbbings  of  the  Father-heart  of 
God.  Churches  that  are  so  conditioned  are  alive. 
They  may  be  pure  in  doctrine  but  without  this 
they  are  dead.  Preachers  who  bring  this  to  their 
congregations  are  embassadors  of  God.  They  who 
have  no  eye  for  this  because  the  heart  does  not 
go  out  after  it,  are  tinkling  cymbals. 

When  ''to  be  near  unto  God"  is  our  joy  and  our 
song;  when  we  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord, 
and  the  secret  walk  with  God  is  daily  our  delight, 
we  experience  the  mighty,  strengthening  influence 
of  the  holy  atmosphere  above,  which  angels 
breathe  and  from  which  departed  saints  drink  in 
the  never-fading  freshness  of  their  soul.  Then  the 
powers  of  the  Kingdom  flow  into  the  inner  man. 
Heavenly  ozone  ministers  to  the  soul.  Spiritual 
power  restrains  what  is  unholy  and  impure  in  us. 
Draughts  from  the  Fountain  of  Life  make  the 
breast  swell  with  fresh  vigor  and  vitalit}'.  Even 
as  in  the  Holy  Ghost  God  himself  touches  us,  and 
inspires  us  to  render  nobler  exhibits  of  power. 

The  whole  social  fabric  of  daily  life  would  won- 
derfully change  if  every  soul  could  breathe  this 
holy  atmosphere.  Alas,  for  sin.  When  the 
anaemic  is  advised  to  try  mountain  or  sea  air  he 
at  once  craves  the  means  to  do  it.  But  when  it 
is  said,  "Get  away  from  your  environments,  seek 
the  company  of  those  of  higher  moral  worth," 
someone  may  be  moved,  but  the  larger  numbers 
continue   their   pleasure   in   their   own   evil   ways. 

114 


And  when  the  matter  is  pressed,  and  it  is  said, 
"Cultivate  the  secret  walk  with  God  and  drink  in 
the  atmosphere  of  the  life  above,"  no  one  responds, 
except  as  God  draws  him.  And  if  we  are  privil- 
eged to  know  this  secret  fellowship,  it  but  shows 
what  excellent  grace  has  been  bestowed  upon  us. 
Let  us  therefore  with  St,  Paul  bow  the  knees  unto 
the  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  that  this 
glorious  privilege  maj^  be  not  taken  from  us,  but 
that  from  this  secret  walk  abounding  might  may 
continuall}'  be  granted  to  strengthen  us  in  the 
inner  man. 

23 

"TO  WHOM  IS  THE  ARM  OF  THE  LORD 
REVEALED?" 

No  thought  lifts  us  more  securely''  above  the 
power  of  material  interests  and  above  the  tempta- 
tion of  the  appetites  than  the  confession,  "God 
is  a  Spirit;"  from  which  of  itself  the  second  flows, 
that  he  who  worships  Him  can  not  and  must  not 
do  so  except  in  spirit  and  in  truth.  This  excludes 
from  God  and  from  the  worship  of  his  name 
everything  that  is  material,  sensual  or  what  is 
bound  to  form.  God  is  a  Spirit.  This  liberat-es 
the  soul  from  every  chain  that  might  bind  or 
oppress  it  contrary  to  its  nature;  always  on 
condition,  of  course,  that  God,  who  is  Spirit,  is 
worshipped  in  spirit  and  in  truth  with  all  the 
love  of  the  heart.  That  God  is  Spirit  brings  all 
idolatry  to  naught,  ail  creature-worship,  and  dis- 
misses every  sensual  horror  which  idolatry  brought 
with  it  and  which  hastened  the  downfall  of  the 
nations  of  antiquity.     Not  to  analyze  the  riches 

115 


of  this  all-dominating  thought  too  closely,  the  fact 
that  God  is  Spirit  lifts  human  life  above  the  whole 
visible  world  and  exalts  the  spirit  within  us  to 
the  high  spheres  of  the  invisible  world  where  God 
dwells  in  light  unapproachable.  For  if  God  is 
Spirit,  he  is  altogether  independent  of  this  visible 
creation.  He  was,  before  the  mountains  were 
brought  forth.  There  was  an  eternity  when  noth- 
ing material  was  as  yet  created;  so  that  in  depen- 
dent relations  all  visible  things  occupy  a  secondary 
place ;  physical  death  does  not  end  all ;  existence 
can  be  prolonged,  though  for  a  while  we  are  only 
spirit ;  and  we  can  revel  now  in  the  supreme  riches 
of  the  thought  that  if  needs  be  we  can  despise  the 
whole  world  and  yet  occupy  high  spiritual  vantage 
ground  and  be  spiritually  rich  in  God. 

But  however  strong  and  superlatively  rich  the 
confession  is  that  God  is  Spirit,  it,  too,  has  been 
corrupted  by  sin.  We  see  this  most  clearly  when 
we  think  of  Satan  and  the  world  of  demons.  Some 
people  who  deem  themselves  civilized  and  highly 
cultivated  may  hold  Satan  and  his  demons  as 
mere  fabrications  of  weak  minds.  They  who 
believe,  correctly  hold  that  with  respect  to  this 
matter  also  Jesus  knew  more  than  they  who  pre- 
tend to  be  enlightened.  In  the  '"Our  Father"  he 
taught  us  to  pray:  "Deliver  us  from  the  evil 
One,"  and  he  wove  the  good  rule  into  it  when  he 
furthermore  made  us  pray:  "Thy  will  be  done 
on  earth  as  it  is  in  iieaven."  'Tn  heaven"  must 
mean:  by  thy  angels.  And  angels  are  pure  spirits 
without  bodies.  If  Satan  was  not  evil  by  creation, 
which  can  not  be  otherwise,  if  originally  he  was 
a  good  and  a  brilliant  creature  of  God,  who  felt 
himself  at  home  in  the  world  of  angels,  it  must 

116 


be  confessed  that  he,  too,  is  a  spirit  and  that  his 
demons  are  spirits.  This  does  not  make  sin  purely 
spiritual,  neither  does  it  exclude  sin  from  the 
world  of  matter.  But  it  means  that  all  sin,  mclud- 
ing  voluptuousness  and  drunkenness,  originates  in 
the  spirit,  and  that  the  Psalmist  was  correct  when 
he  prayed:  Keep  back  thy  servant  also  from  pre- 
sumptuous sins;  let  them  not  have  dominion  over 
me ;  then  shall  I  be  upright  and  I  shall  be  innocent 
from  the  great  transgression  (19:13). 

Nothing  offends  more  greatly  therefore  than 
that  in  the  social  world  immorality  is  taken  to 
consist  exclusively  -  of  intemperance,  debauch  or 
A'oluptuousness,  and  that  its  attendants  of  scorn, 
bitterness,  anger  and  revenge  are  seemingly  no 
blots  on  the  good  name  of  celebrated  people 
Along  this  line  the  glorious  confession  that  God 
is  Spirit  is  abandoned  to  pantheism,  while 
presumptuous  pride  leads  at  length  to  such  high 
esteem  of  self  as  to  make  one  dream  that  he  him- 
self is  God.  This  has  given  rise  to  the  monstrous 
idea,  even  among  devout  souls,  that  with  the  "new 
man  in  the  spirit"  all  responsibility  can  be  dis- 
owned for  sins  of  sensuality  which  "the  old  man" 
has  committed.  And  this  in  true  is  entirely  the 
same  error  as  that  which  is  revived  again  in  the 
school  of  Maeterlinck  that  the  pure  soul  within 
is  not  stained  by  sensual  misdeeds  of  the  body. 

Holy  Scripture  subverts  all  this  by  impressing 
upon  the  soul  that  God  is  Spirit  and  that  all  the 
workings  of  God  are  the  personal  doings  of  One 
who  is  everywhere  present  with  us.  God  is  a  Spirit, 
upon  the  soul  that  God  is  Spirit,  and  that  all  the 
pervading  the  whole  creation;  not  a  vague  work- 
ing, elusive  and  inapprehensible.     No,  thrice  no. 


He  is  a  God  who  is  our  Heavenl}-  Father,  who 
speaks  to  us,  who  hears  our  prayers,  in  whose 
breast  throbs  a  heart  full  of  Divine  compassion. 
He  IS  a  personal  God,  who  companies  with  us  as 
a  friend,  who  turns  in  with  us  for  the  night,  and 
who  allows  us  to  dwell  in  his  holy  tabernacle. 
The  works  of  God  are  constantly  described  there- 
fore as  personal  acts,  in  connection  with  which 
references  abound  to  the  face  of  God,  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Lord,  to  the  ear  which  he  inclines 
toward  us,  to  the  footsteps  of  the  Holy  One,  to 
the  hand  which  is  over  us  in  blessing,  and  to  the 
arm  of  strength  with  which  the  Lord  breaks  all 
forms  of  opposition.  All  this  is  in  part  personi- 
fication, by  which  what  is  found  in  man  is  applied 
to  God.  But  there  is  more  to  it  than  this.  He 
that  planted  the  ear,  the  Psalmist  asks:  Shall  he 
not  hear?  He  that  formed  the  eye,  shall  he  not 
see?  (94:9).  The  eye  and  the  ear,  the  hand  and 
the  arm  are  but  bodily  manifestations  of  our 
inward  powers,  which  God  has  so  made,  because 
he  created  us  after  his  image.  When  we  say  that 
God  hears,  sees,  speaks,  blesses  and  fights,  it  is 
not  said  so,  metaphorically,  after  the  manner  of 
men,  but  by  it  is  asserted  that  all  this  is  original 
in  God  and  that  it  only  appears  in  us  after  his 
image.  When  the  Scripture  speaks  of  an  arm  of 
the  Lord,  it  means  that  there  is  not  merely  a 
vague  outflowing  of  power  from  God,  but  that 
God  governs  his  indwelling  and  outgoing  power, 
that  he  directs  it  to  definite  ends,  that  he  uses 
or  leaves  it  unused  according  to  his  good  pleasure, 
and  that  when  God  employs  his  power  to  protect 
or  to  oppose  us,  it  is  equally  much,  and  in  a 
still  higher  sense,  a  personal  act,  as  when  we  lift 
118 


up  our  arm  to  protect  a  child  or  to  ward  off  an 
assailant. 

When  the  prophet  Isaiah  asks  (53:1):  To 
whom  is  the  arm  of  the  Lord  revealed?  and  the 
question  in  turn  is  put  to  you :  Is  the  arm  of  the 
Lord  revealed  to  you?  it  does  not  mean  in  a 
vague  general  way  whether  you  believe  that  there 
is  a  God,  and  that  there  is  a  power  of  God,  and 
whether  you  believe  that  this  power  is  operative. 
But  rather  whether  in  your  position  and  in  your 
experience  in  life  3^ou  have  discovered  that 
Almighty  God  has  personal  dealings  with  you,  that 
as  God  he  has  turned  himself  in  person  to  your 
person,  and  has  come  in  contact  with  you  as  a 
man  comes  in  contact  with  his  friend  or  with  his 
assailant,  and  whether  in  this  strictly  personal  rela- 
tion you  have  discerned  the  arm  of  the  Lord  lift- 
ing itself  up  to  cover  and  protect  you,  or  turning 
itself  against  you  to  assail  and  cast  you  down. 

This  is  what  most  lives  lack,  even  among  those 
that  confess  Christ.  They  lack  what  is  recorded 
of  Moses:  that  he  endured  as  seeing  him  who  is 
Invisible.  They  do  not  understand  what  is  told 
of  Jacob,  that  he  wrestled  with  God  as  with  a  man. 
They  have  vague  impressions  that  there  are  certain 
influences,  operations  and  powers  abroad,  but  they 
do  not  see  the  Holy  One,  they  have  no  dealings 
with  God  as  with  a  Father  who  comes  to  his  child, 
looks  it  in  the  face  with  his  eyes,  listens  to  it 
with  his  ears,  puts  his  hand  on  it  and  covers  it 
with  the  arm  of  his  power.  The}'  praj'  to  God 
and  praise  him,  but  they  do  not  meet  him  in  the 
way.  They  do  not  feel  his  presence  with  them  by 
night.  They  do  not  feel  his  holy  breath  upon 
their  cheek.     And  they  do  not  see  the  "arm   of 

119 


strength"  which  is  all  their  assurance  and  salva- 
tion. It  can  not  be  insisted  upon  therefore  with 
sufficient  urgency  that  Bible  reading  be  made  a 
more  serious  business;  that  we  wean  ourselves 
from  the  false  tendency  to  take  everything  in 
Scripture  metaphoricall3^  God's  word  is  a  lamp 
before  our  feet  and  a  light  upon  our  path,  because 
it  alone  engraves  these  two  things  upon  the  heart: 
that  God  is  Spirit,  and  that,  as  Our  Father  who  is 
in  heaven,  this  God  meets  us  in  the  way  and  deals 
with  us  as  a  man  with  his  neighbor;  invisible  and 
yet  seen. 

24 

THAT  THEY  MIGHT  KNOW  THEE. 

''This  is  life  eternal,  that  they  might  know  Thee, 
the  only  true  God"  (John  17:3).  No  human  word 
can  express  a  deeper  thought  or  higher  aim  than 
this.  It  was  not  spoken  by  a  seer  to  men,  but  by 
the  Son  to  the  Father.  And  it  must  be  heard 
anew  by  him  who  would  seek  God,  since  it  has 
been  put  on  record  for  this  purpose. 

No  prayers  of  our  Lord  during  his  more  than 
thirty  years'  life  on  earth,  in  Joseph's  home  at 
Nazareth,  in  mountain  or  desert  place,  by  day  or 
night,  have  been  recorded  in  the  Gospels,  save  a 
few  sentence  prayers  and  the  cry  of  distress  in 
Gethsemane.  In  John  17,  however,  the  high- 
priestly  pra3'^er  of  our  Savior  has  come  down  to 
us  in  all  its  sublime  grandeur.  He  who  gave  us 
the  Scripture  to  guide  us  on  our  pilgrim  journey 
has  ordained  that  this  prayer  of  Jesus  to  the 
Father  should  awake  an  echo  in  our  own  praying 
heart. 

120 


If  all  the  prayers  of  our  Savior  had  been  pre- 
served m  writing,  it  would  have  been  an  inex- 
haustible treasure.  First,  the  child-like  prayers  of 
his  early  life,  which  already  at  the  age  of  twelve 
showed  such  Divine  traits  that  even  in  its  still 
undeveloped  form  it  breathed  perfection  and 
apprehended  it.  Then  the  period  in  Jesus  prayer- 
life  from  youth  to  manhood  spent  in  retirement 
and  in  preparation  for  the  great  work  of  our  sal- 
vation. Then  the  closing  period  of  three  years,  so 
brief  and  quickly  passed,  but  which  is  by  far  the 
richest,  because  of  the  storms  that  raged  and 
which  were  battled  through  at  the  pains  of  who 
can  say  how  many  long  hours  spent  in  agonizing 
prayer. 

Nothing  of  all  the  riches  of  these  prayers  has 
been  handed  down  to  us  save  this  one.  "I  thank 
Thee,  0  Father,  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth, 
because  thou  hast  hid  these  things  from  the  wise 
and  prudent,  and  hast  revealed  them  unto  babes. 
Even  so,  Father;  for  so  it  seemed  good  in  thy 
sight."  And  in  the  high-priestly  prayer,  this 
sacred  diadem  which  has  been  handed  down  to  ug 
unchanged  and  unabbreviated,  we  discover  what 
is  at  heart  the  same  thought:  "This  is  eternal 
life,  that  they  might  know  Thee,  the  Only  True 
God."  In  Matth.  11  it  is  not  the  prudent  and  the 
wise,  but  babes.  In  John  17  it  is  not  the  world, 
but  them  whom  Thou  hast  given  me  out  of  the 
world.  In  both  instances  it  is  the  knowledge  of 
God;  that  which  has  been  revealed  of  the  Holy 
and  the  Highest.  And  what  is  to  be  adored  in  it 
all  is  the  Divine  good  pleasure. 

This  is  prayer:  Not  criticizing  what  is  holy, 
but   taking   it   in,   drinking  it  in.     And   by   the 

121 


entrance  of  the  Holy  One  into  our  life,  not  merely 
to  live  forever,  but  to  have  a  life  which  in  its  own 
nature  is  eternal. 

When  something  stirs  in  a  secret  place  and 
something  proceeds  therefrom,  there  is  life.  The 
pregnant  mother  feels  life  when  she  is  aware  of 
motion  within,  and  then  knows  that  presently 
life  will  be  born  from  her.  So  it  is  with  us.  Wlien 
everything  is  still  within,  when  no  voice  is  heard 
from  the  soul,  and  nothing  stirs  in  our  inmost 
parts,  who  can  know  whether  the  soul  lives?  We 
may  live  along  with  the  life  of  the  world  and  be 
affected  by  it,  even  as  the  motion  of  the  sea 
leaves  no  single  drop  at  rest,  but  communicates 
its  own  restlessness  to  it.  This,  however,  is  not 
a  life  of  one's  own.  It  is  no  inner  impulse  the 
momentum  of  which  springs  from  oneself. 

Moving  along  with  the  rise  and  fall  of  the 
world's  life  may  develop  warmth  within,  may 
enrich  one  intellectually,  may  deepen  the  affec- 
tions and  widen  experience,  but  it  has  no  root  of 
its  own,  no  individual  impulse  and  therefore  it  can 
not  convey  permanent  possession.  And  when  at 
length  death  removes  us  from  this  restless  life  of 
the  world,  this  purely  impersonal  life  that  has 
been  lived  with  others,  is  shaken  off  and  nothing 
remains.  Real  personal  life,  on  the  other  hand, 
springs  from  a  Divinely  implanted  seed,  which 
inwardly  germinates  and  unfolds.  But,  for  its 
proper  growth,  it  continually  asks  for  food  after  its 
own  kind.  If  it  fails  of  this,  it  languishes  and 
withers.  Abundance  of  provisions,  which  are  not 
meet,  do  not  help  it.  It  can  not  assimilate  nor 
digest  them.  Insofar  as  they  enter  into  it  they 
only  pervert  it.     Getting  food  after  its  own  kind 

122 


only  once  in  a  while,  in  small  measures,  does  not 
help  it.  To  reach  full  development  it  must  con- 
stantly be  fed  with  food  convenient  for  it. 

This  is  "eternal  life"  for  the  soul.  Not  only 
life  hereafter,  but  an  unfolding  here  of  the  inner 
self,  according  to  its  disposition,  nature  and  des- 
tim-.  In  this  process  everything  that  poisons  the 
blood  of  the  inner  life  is  expelled,  and  every  need 
of  it  is  met.  And  the  supply  for  this  inner  feeding, 
strengthening  and  sanctifying  is  so  constant,  per- 
manent and  essentially  eternal,  as  to  insure  per- 
fect fruition.  This  is  eternal  life  for  the  inner 
self  of  man  created  after  God's  image. 

According  to  the  teaching  of  our  Lord,  the  soul 
only  finds  this  food  for  eternal  life  in  the  eternal 
God.  The  Lord  is  my  portion,  my  everlasting 
good  (Ps.  16:5).  What  can  my  heart  desire  on 
earth  beside  Thee?  (Ps.  73:25).  God  is  the 
highest  good.  In  Thy  light  we  see  light.  With 
Thee  is  the  source  of  my  life  (Ps.  36:9). 

Everything  comes  to  us  from  God.  We  owe 
him  thanks  for  everything  we  have.  Every  good 
and  perfect  gift  cometh  down  from  the  Father  of 
lights.  From  him,  through  him,  and  to  him  are 
all  things.  But  the  end  and  aim  is,  and  ever  shall 
be,  that  God  shall  be  all  and  in  aU. 

It  is  beautiful  to  confess  that  our  God  is  Lord 
of  lords  and  King  of  kings.  That  he  appoints, 
allows  and  governs  all  things.  Far  greater,  how- 
ever, is  the  confession  that  God  the  Holy  Ghost 
enters  into  us  and  dwells  in  us,  and  chooses  us  for 
his  temple,  and  makes  intercession  in  us  and  for 
us  with  groanings  that  are  unutterable. 

In  this  alone  the  heart  finds  rest.  Everything 
that  grace  bestows  are  but  radiations  of  glory  and 

123 


love.  The  burning  hearth  of  all  love  and  glory 
is  in  God  himself.  Every  drop  of  the  water  of 
eternal  life  is  refreshing,  but  the  Fountain  from 
which  these  waters  spring  is  the  loving  heart  of 
the  Eternal.  Throughout  the  entire  Scripture 
therefore,  and  throughout  the  whole  Church,  and 
in  every  saintly  soul,  the  confession  of  passionate 
delight:  It  is  good  for  me,  it  is  my  blessed  lot 
"to  be  near  unto  God,"  may  always  be  heard. 
Him  seeks  the  eye.  Him  desires  the  heart.  And 
only  and  alone  when  the  soul  has  found  its 
highest  good  in  God,  can  the  germ  of  the  personal 
life  in  us  revive  from  its  withered  estate,  and  begin 
to  develop  and  to  unfold,  until  from  the  half- 
opened  bud  expands  the  blossom  of  everlasting 
life. 

This  can  not  be  otherwise  on  account  of  the 
nature  of  the  soul.  We  have  not  made  it  our- 
selves. The  world  has  not  determined  its  char- 
acter. It  has  not  become  what  it  is  by  chance. 
God  alone  has  planned  what  the  human  soul 
should  be.  Hence  its  nature  is  what  he  appointed 
that  it  should  be.  And  so  it  continues  to  be 
whether  it  is  the  soul  of  a  Judas  or  the  soul  of  a 
St.  John.  It  can  develop  itself  in  holiness,  it  can 
also  degenerate  in  sin  and  become  corrupt.  But 
whether  it  unfolds  in  glory  or  in  corruption,  both 
are  what  they  are  by  virtue  of  the  nature  of  the 
soul  as  God  has  planned  it.  Every  creative  plan 
has  gone  out  from  God.  A  plan  for  the  stars  in 
the  firmament,  fOr  the  corn  in  the  ear.  for  the 
lark  that  sings  among  the  branches,  for  the  angel 
that  sings  the  Holy,  Holy,  Holy,  in  the  sanctuary 
above.  But  the  nature,  the  essential  character  of 
the  human  soul,  was  planned  and  ordained  of  God 

124 


to  be  different  from  the  nature  of  everything  else. 

With  charming  clearness  the  Scripture  defines 
the  nature  of  the  soul  in  this  single  phrase:  that 
we  are  created  after  the  image  of  God.  This 
includes  everything.  From  this  everything  explains 
itself.  From  this  it  comes  that  the  soul  can  never 
have  its  "highest  good"  save  in  Him  after  whose 
Image  it  originated.  The  opposite  truth  no  less 
holds  good  that  everything  that  turns  the  soul  to 
another  good  than  God  as  the  highest,  wounds, 
corrupts  and  poisons  it.  It  is  painful  to  see  that 
the  nations  with  their  seething  multitudes  have  no 
understanding  of  this.  But  it  is  more  painful  to 
see  that  even  among  serious-minded  people  many 
lay  hold  on  everything  else  but  God.  Most  pain- 
ful of  all  is  the  sight  of  many  religious  people 
who  follow  after  everything  that  is  good,  but  show 
that  they  have  never  tasted  the  "highest  good. 

But  our  blessed  Lord  does  not  despair.  In 
heaven  he  continues  to  intercede  for  his  saints 
upon  earth:  ''Father,  this  is  eternal  life,  that  they 
might  know  Thee,  the  only  true  God."  And  in 
perfect  accord  with  this  is  the  disclosure,  m  con- 
stantly new-born  children  of  the  Kingdom,  of  the 
ardent  life  of  the  soul,  which  responds  to  this 
prayer  with  a  devout:  Amen. 

26 

''SHOW  US  THE  FATHER." 

In  this  meditation  also  the  main  thought  is  the 
striking  word  of  Jesus:  This  is  eternal  life,  that 
they  might  know  Thee,  the  Only  true  God.  Its 
meaning  is  too  profound  to  be  fully  set  forth  at 

125 


one  time.  Therefore  we  come  back  to  it  now  and 
will  presently  do  so  again. 

We  have  tried  to  explain  what  eternal  life  is. 
We  did  not  undertake  to  reduce  it  to  a  single 
definition,  neither  have  we  subjected  the  idea  to 
close  analysis.  All  we  essayed  to  do  was,  to  make 
the  life  to  be  perceived  in  life  itself,  and  to 
explain  that  eternal  life  means  more  than  mere 
life  without  end.  Mere  endless  life  would  drive 
us  to  despair;  eternal  life,  which  is  altogether  dif- 
ferent, inspires  and  rejuvinates. 

And  now  to  the  point.  It  does  not  say  that  he 
who  knows  the  Father  shall  have  eternal  life.  It 
does  not  say:  If  you  are  religious  and  earnestly 
seek  to  know  God,  your  reward  after  death  will 
be  eternal  life.  On  the  contrary  it  declares  that 
to  know  God  is  itself  eternal  life.  The  difference 
is  seen  at  once  to  be  heavenwide.  To  interpret 
eternal  life  as  a  reward  for  pains  taken  to  know 
God  is  superficial,  mechanical  and  affected.  The 
thought  that  eternal  life  is  itself  the  knowledge  of 
God  is  unfathomably  deep.  Eternal  life  as  the 
reward  for  knowledge  is  a  part  of  school  discipline. 
First  much  study,  much  memorizing,  much  taking 
notes  of  dictations,  and  then  promotion  from  a 
passing  existence  into  an  endless  one.  This  makes 
it  all  a  sort  of  higher  life-insurance,  or  turns  it  into 
a  course  of  mental  gymnastics,  into  the  study  of 
a  work  on  dogmatics  which  is  subtly  composed, 
every  sentence  of  which  is  carefully  constructed, 
and  which  presents  in  an  orderly  way  what  in  the 
course  of  centuries  has  been  systematized  regard- 
mg  the  Being,  Work,  Person  and  Attributes  of  the 
Infinite.  And  when  at  length  everything  has 
become  dry  as  dust  to  the  eye  of  the  soul,  and 

126 


when  there  is  no  more  fragrance  of  Hfe  percept- 
ible anywhere,  the  reward  of  this  barren,  dead 
knowledge  is  eternal  life.  All  this  falls  away  when 
the  saying  of  Jesus  is  taken  as  it  reads:  The 
knowledge  of  God  is  itself  eternal  life.  He  who 
has  it,  has  already,  here  and  now.  eternal  life.  He 
who  dies  without  having  found  it  here,  will  never 
find  it  in  the  hereafter.  No  eternal  morning  will 
dawn  on  him.  And  this  interpretation,  which 
seems  to  us  the  only  permissible  one,  affects  us 
like  a  power  that  pierces  the  conscience  with  the 
question:  Have  you  this  knowledge?  And  it 
urges  us,  now,  before  it  is  too  late,  to  seek  it 
with  all  our  might,  until  in  thrilling  ecstacy  of  soul 
we  feel  the  swell  of  the  undulation  of  this  eternal 
life. 

And  now  comes  Philip  with  the  naive  request: 
Lord,  show  us  the  Father  (John  14:8).  This  was 
childlike  in  its  simplicity,  but  he  chose  the  right 
starting  point  from  which  to  advance.  He  who 
asks  like  this  shows  that  he  means  it.  and  that  he 
is  in  earnest  about  it.  He  wants  to  know  God,  It 
shows  that  he  does  not  care  for  book-knowledge, 
but  for  life-knowledge  of  God,  And  what  is  more 
natural  than  that  he  begins  by  asking:  Show  me 
the  Father. 

One  of  the  defects  of  the  religious  life,  as  it  has 
come  down  to  us  from  the  Reformation,  is  that  in 
distinction  from  Rome  it  has  been  developed  too 
dogmatically.  This  could  not  be  otherwise.  Doc- 
trine can  not  be  sacrificed.  But  when  it  appears 
too  onesidedly  in  the  foreground,  there  is  some- 
thing wrong.  The  same  difference  presents  itself 
between  the  Gospels  and  the  Epistles:  the  latter 

127 


are  in  part  controversial.  In  the  Gospel  the  dis- 
tinction occurs  between  the  sermon  on  the  Mount 
and  Jesus'  controversy  with  the  scribes.  The  first 
period  of  the  Reformation  was  better  than  the 
later  one.  What  rapture  marks  the  language  of 
the  Confession  and  the  Office  of  Holy  Communion 
in  distinction  from  the  barrenness  of  later  formu- 
laries. First  there  are  bounding  floods  of  life,  and 
then  we  find  drained  river-beds  with  only  some 
weak  rill  coursing  through  the  sand.  We  will 
never  know  how  greatly  this  has  impoverished  the 
church. 

But  Philip  knows  nothing  about  these  contrasts 
and  formularies.  He  faces  the  matter  with  child- 
like simplicity.  To  him  God  is  really  the  Eternal 
Being.  He  longs  for  God.  He  seeks  after  him. 
The  prayer  of  his  heart  is  that  he  might  see  God. 
Hence  the  request:  Show  us  the  Father.  When 
reports  go  the  rounds  about  a  person  and  some- 
one asks:  Do  you  know  him?  nothing  is  more 
natural,  when  you  do  not  know  him,  than  to  say: 
I  have  not  even  seen  him.  For  seeing  is  of 
first  importance.  An  impression  received  through 
sight  speaks  for  itself.  Both  in  Old  and  New  Tes- 
taments the  desire  to  see  God  appears  everywhere 
in  the  foreground.  With  Moses  when  he  prayed: 
Show  me  thy  glory,  and  Jehovah  replied:  No 
man  shall  see  my  face  and  live  (Exod.  33:18,  20). 
And  in  I  Cor.  13:12  St.  Paul  declares:  But  we  all, 
with  open  face  beholding  as  in  a  glass  the  glory 
of  the  Lord,  are  changed  into  the  same  image 
from  glory  to  glory.  In  words  like  these  the  life 
of  the  Scripture  beats  and  throbs.  There  is  no 
dry    as    dust    there.      Everything    pulsates    with 

128 


reality.  All  interests  center  in  God,  in  the  living 
God,  to  see  him,  to  behold  him,  and  ardently  to 
rejoice  in  this  life-giving  look.  When,  therefore, 
Philip  asked:  Lord,  show  us  the  Father,  he  made 
the  right  beginning,  and  it  sprang  fiom  his  burn- 
ing thirst  after  the  living  God. 

But  alas,  God  can  not  be  seen  with  our  outward 
eyes.  The  reason  for  this  is  perfectly  plain.  We 
can  only  see  things,  whatever  they  are,  when  they 
present  themselves  as  parts  of  the  visible  world 
and  are  sufficiently  limited  to  fall  within  the  range 
of  our  vision.  No  one  can  see  the  world  as  a 
whole,  but  only  in  fragments  and  parts;  now  this 
part,  now  that,  as  far  as  it  falls  within  reach.  But 
even  if  we  could  see  the  whole  world,  we  would 
still  be  unable  to  see  God,  because  the  world  is 
finite,  and  God  is  infinite.  The  greatest  idea  that 
can  be  formed  of  the  world  falls  away  into  noth- 
ingness compared  with  the  infinite  God.  We  can 
only  see  what  falls  within  our  range  of  vision  and 
what  has  form  and  appearance.  But  God  is  Spirit, 
and  they  who  worship  him  must  worship  him 
in  spirit  and  in  truth.  God  can  not  be  seen  there- 
fore outside  of  ourselves.  To  desire  to  do  this  is 
to  bring  him  down  to  our  level,  to  give  him  a 
form  and  to  rob  him  of  his  spirituality.  Here 
idolatry  comes  in.  It  began  when  people  "changed 
the  glory  of  the  incorruptible  God  into  an  image 
made  like  to  corruptible  man"  (Rom.  1:23).  It 
did  not  spring  from  wickedness,  but  from  piety. 
Not  the  worst,  but  the  best  people  from  among 
the  nations  built  temples  and  placed  an  image  of 
God  in  them.  Then  the  priests  showed  them 
their   God  in  an  image  which  they  had  made. 

129 


They  thought  that  they  had  thereby  brought  God 
closer  to  the  people,  while  in  fact  the  miserable 
image  had  caused  all  knowledge  of  God  to  be  lost 
to  them.  With  every  representation  of  God,  God 
himself  is  gone.  Hence  the  searching  warning  of 
St.  John:  Little  children,  keep  yourselves  from 
idols. 

Thus  there  remains  the  cry:  Show  us  the 
Father.  The  cry  from  the  soul,  that  is  not  satis- 
fied with  a  dogma  and  a  creed,  but  wants  God 
himself;  the  truly  childlike  and  devout  heart  that 
thirsts  for  the  living  God.  And  side  by  side  with 
this  remains  the  other  fact,  that  no  objective  rep- 
resentation of  God  is  possible,  and  that  He  can 
not  be  seen  with  mortal  eye.  He  is  the  Invisible. 
With  every  effort  to  represent  him  by  an  image 
the  Infinite  is  lost  and  man  is  exiled  farther  away 
from  God.  And  the  reconciliation  of  these  mutu- 
ally excluding  facts :  that  we  are  inwardly  impelled 
not  to  rest  until  we  have  seen  God,  and  that  by 
representations  of  him  we  lose  him  altogether 
lies  in  Jesus'  answer  to  Philip:  "He  that  hath 
seen  Me,  hath  seen  the  Father;  and  how  sayest 
thou  then,  show  us  the  Father?"  (John  14:9). 

And  how?  There  is  an  outward  look  and  there 
is  an  inward  look.  But  we  can  not  have  this 
inward  look  as  single  individuals.  Not  by  our- 
selves alone,  but  in  our  human  nature.  In  the 
Son  of  Man  God  himself  appears  to  us  in  this 
human  nature.  Through  fellowship  with  the  Son 
of  Man  we  see  God,  in  Jesus,  through  Jesus,  and 
through  the  Holy  Ghost  we  see  him  in  ourselves. 
Not  the  image  of  God  in  the  temple  of  idols,  but 
the  image  of  God  in  Christ. 
130 


26 

HE  THAT  HATH  SEEN  ME  HATH  SEEN 
THE  FATHER. 

There  are  sayings  of  Jesus  that  make  one 
tremble  and  stand  back — unless  he  believes  on 
him.  One  of  these  is:  He  that  loveth  father  or 
mother  more  than  me  is  not  worthy  of  me 
(Matth.  10:37).  Imagine  a  man  who  would  dare 
to  say  anything  like  this  in  a  public  meeting. 
Every  hearer  would  take  him  to  be  insane.  If  a 
man  were  to  come  into  your  home  and  in  your 
presence  address  your  child  like  this,  would  you 
not  take  sure  measures  to  prevent  him  from  doing 
so  again?  But  Jesus  spake  like  this.  And  you 
teach  your  child  that  this  saying  is  true — because 
you  worship  Jesus. 

Such  is  the  case  with  Jesus'  answer  to  Philip: 
He  that  hath  seen  me  hath  seen  the  Father  (John 
14:9).  This  rouses  the  same  repellant  feeling. 
We  would  make  a  man,  who  spoke  like  this,  harm- 
less by  securing  him  a  lodging  in  an  institution 
for  the  insane — unless  we  honored  and  worshipped 
God  in  him.  There  is  no  choice  in  this  matter. 
In  any  nation  in  whose  public  conscience  there 
glows  a  spark  of  religion,  public  opinion  would 
demand  the  arrest  of  a  man  of  such  blasphemous 
pretensions.  But  to  this  striking  saying  of  Jesus 
on  the  contrary  our  own  heart  echoes  consent — 
because  we  worship  him. 

It  all  depends  on  this.  The  Sanhedrin  and  the 
excited  Jews  in  the  courts  of  Justice  at  Jerusalem 
acted  consistently  from  their  viewpoint,  when  they 
took  Jesus  for  a  blasphemer  and  cast  him   out. 

131 


They  did  not  worship  him.  As  long  as  their  eyes 
were  closed  against  the  Divine  majesty  of  Jesus 
they  could  not  do  otherwise.  Their  sin  was  not 
that  they  cast  out  Jesus,  but  that  they  did  not 
see  God  in  Him.  They  talked  a  good  deal  about 
God.  But  when  God  appeared  to  them  in  Jesus 
they  knew  him  not  and  denied  that  it  was  He. 
And  this  is  the  case  now.  In  times  of  refreshings, 
when  religious  perceptions  are  clear,  thousands  see 
God  in  Jesus  who  never  did  so  before.  In  times 
of  religious  decline  multitudes  abandon  the  faith 
and  take  pleasure  in  heaping  other  honorary  titles 
upon  Jesus  than  those  that  are  his  own.  They 
call  him  the  ideal  man,  the  model  of  true  piety 
the  hero  of  faith,  the  martyr  for  a  sacred  cause. 
These  are  altogether  words,  and  only  words,  by 
which  to  soothe  the  conscience  and  to  evade  the 
issue  at  stake,  which  is,  that  with  Thomas  they 
should  kneel  adoringly  at  his  feet  with  the  cry: 
"My  Lord  and  My  God."  In  daring  frenzy 
Voltaire  permitted  the  Uinjame  to  flow  from  his 
reckless  pen.  But  he  was  braver  than  these  irreso- 
lute spirits.  At  heart  they  are  one  with  him. 
They  do  not  believe  that  they  who  saw  Jesus 
saw  God.  But  they  have  not  the  heart  to  say 
how  this  Jesus,  who  dared  to  say  this,  should  be 
estimated. 

The  highest  act  within  reach  of  the  spirit  of 
man  is  to  see  God  in  Jesus.  The  Deity  of  Christ 
is  generally  accepted  in  childhood  years.  But  as 
time  goes  on  it  is  given  little  or  no  thought.  For 
the  rest  this  conviction  is  left  as  a  foreign  some- 
thing in  the  conscience,  without  being  worked  over 
and  applied  to  the  same  in  its  later  stages  of 
development.     This  should  not  be  censured  too 

132 


severely.  Many  can  not  advance  beyond  this. 
Their  mental  grasp  has  no  further  reach.  And 
even  from  such  a  defective  conviction  childlike 
faith  can  borrow  moral  strength.  But  the  thrice 
blessed,  who  have  been  initiated  into  a  more 
sympathetic  and  more  ardent  piety,  can  not  rest 
content  with  this.  They  think  and  contemplate; 
they  go  through  spiritual  experiences;  and  by 
these  inner  activities  of  the  soul  they  enter  into 
this  mystery  more  deeply  than  mere  analytic 
study  of  doctrine  can  effect.  Seeing  with  the  eye 
of  sense  is  not  full,  clear  and  perfect  sight  to 
them.  Without  the  eye  of  sense  God  saw  purely, 
spiritually  and  immediately,  long  before  we  ever 
saw.  And  when  in  the  creation  after  his  Image 
God  endowed  man  with  the  power  to  see,  of 
necessity  human  sight  was  originally  spiritual, 
internal  and  immediate.  Only  because  God  also 
clothed  man  with  a  body  and  placed  him  in  a 
world  of  sense,  did  He  form  the  human  eye 
through  which  man  can  see  this  world.  For  this 
alone,  and  for  no  other  purpose,  was  the  eye  of 
sense  created.  Consequently  it  can  only  see  this 
visible  world.  When  the  other  far  more  compre- 
hensive, invisible  world  is  concerned,  it  has  no 
use.  And,  therefore,  man  was  endowed  with 
another  eye,  even  the  eye  of  the  soul,  to  which 
as  a  subordinate  instrument,  the  eye  of  sense  only 
renders  auxiliary  aid.  There  are  two  worlds: 
one  spiritual  and  one  material.  In  connection 
with  these  there  are  two  eyes:  one  in  the  soul 
and  one  in  the  body.  And  there  is  a  two-fold 
vision:  immediate  sight  in  the  spirit  and  mediate 
sight  through  mortal  eye.  An  inward  look  and  an 
outward  look.  An  imaginary  seeing  of  which  we 
133 


are  so  clearlj'  conscious  that  nothing  is  more  com- 
mon than  the  saying:  "You  see  that  I  am  right," 
where  seeing  refers  to  what  has  been  said  or 
explained,  and  not  to  anything  shown  to  the  eye 
of  sense. 

From  the  nature  of  the  case,  therefore,  to  see 
the  Father  in  Jesus  was  no  primitive  act  of  the 
eye  of  sense.  God  is  a  Spirit,  and  he  who  would 
see  the  Father  in  Jesus,  must  see  in  him  the  Spirit 
which  is  God.  Spiritual  seeing  with  the  eye  of  the 
soul  alone  is  possible  here.  At  first  something 
deeply  spiritual  is  discerned  in  Jesus,  even  as  in 
other  men  of  hoh'  lives.  Further  looking  into  his 
holy  being  brings  to  light  that  in  Jesus  this 
spiritual  excellence  is  of  an  higher  type  than  in 
anyone  else.  In  him  it  is  clearer,  fuller,  richer. 
And  this  does  not  yet  explain  Jesus  in' full.  That 
spirituality  in  him  is  nobler,  richer  and  fuller 
than  in  others,  even  in  the  best  of  men,  does  not 
say  enough.  In  Jesus  an  unfathomable  depth  dis- 
closes itself,  so  that  at  length  it  must  be  acknowl- 
edged that  in  him  the  spiritual  lives  and  shines 
more  richly  than  was  ever  thought  possible.  It 
exceeds  human  thought.  It  surpasses  the  think- 
able. Of  itself  spiritual  observation  of  Jesus 
passes  on  into  the  infinite.  Latest  distinctions  are 
lost.  From  the  background  of  his  being  shines 
eternal  perfection.  Everything  shifts  before  the 
vision  of  the  soul.  Unconsciously  the  transition  is 
made  from  the  finite  into  the  infinite,  until  God 
is  discerned  in  Jesus  and  in  wonder  and  adoration 
we  kneal  at  his  feet  and  worship. 

But  this  experience  is  not  something  apart  from 
what  the  eye  of  sense  sees  in  the  Incarnate  Word. 
In    this   examination    the   spirit   of   Jesus   is   not 

134 


detached  from  his  personal  appearance.  The  body 
is  not  ignored  that  the  soul  may  be  discerned,  but 
Jesus  is  taken  as  he  was,  appeared,  spoke  and 
acted.  One  appearance  is  faced,  one  perfect  whole, 
one  mystery.  Even  as  among  us  there  are  times 
when  a  person  becomes  radiant  and  allows  his 
soul  to  shine  through  his  face,  in  his  eye,  about 
his  lips,  in  his  word  and  in  his  act,  so  that  through 
the  outward  appearance  the  person  within  is  seen 
— so  it  was  with  Jesus,  only  far  stronger,  and  all 
the  time.  His  appearance  must  have  been  over- 
whelming. The  impression  which  he  made  must 
have  been  full  of  wonder.  When  we  think  of  the 
soulfulness  in  his  holy  eye,  the  changes  of  expres- 
sion in  his  face,  and  his  modulated,  sympathetic 
voice,  it  is  felt  at  once  that  his  bodily  appear- 
ance was  no  hindrance  to  reach  the  Divine  in  him, 
but  was  rather  the  vehicle  by  which  to  approach 
it.  It  was  as  though,  through  Jesus,  God  himself 
came  out  into  thq  visible  world,  inviting  and 
alluring  all  who  saw  him  to  admire  and  to  worship 
God  in  him.  If  at  the  time  of  Jesus'  sojourn  on 
the  earth,  man  had  been  what  he  was  before  the 
fall  in  paradise,  the  perfect  God  would  at  once 
have  been  recognized  in  Jesus.  But  with  the 
blinded  eye  of  the  soul  sinful  man  could  not  do 
this;  it  was  impossible.  God  was  there  in  Jesus, 
but  the  world  could  not  see  him.  The  eye  of 
the  soul  had  been  bandaged.  And  only  when  God 
himself  had  removed  this  bandage  could  man  see 
God  in  Jesus. 

The  eye  of  the  soul  is  not  something  apart 
from  the  soul.  It  is  rather  the  sum  total  of  all 
its  powers  by   which   it   perceives,   becomes   con- 

13.5 


scious,  discovers  and  enjoys.  Spiritual  seeing  is 
feeling,  perceiving,  becoming  aware  of  environ- 
ments with  all  the  latent  powers  of  the  soul.  It 
is  the  internal  awakening  of  human  nature,  which, 
created  after  the  image  of  God,  goes  back  to  its 
original  image,  has  clear  vision  of  the  relation 
between  image  and  original,  between  image  and 
impression,  imprints  it  upon  its  own  sense  of  self 
(self-consciousness)  and  thus  learns  to  know  God 
with  an  inner  knowledge.  Only  in  this  way  has 
human  nature  in  Jesus  apprehended  God  in  full 
and  known  him.  Human  nature  in  its  totality 
is  not  in  every  one  of  us,  but  only  a  variation  of 
it  in  one  particular,  definite  form.  In  Jesus  alone 
human  nature  as  a  whole  was  embodied.  He, 
therefore,  was  called  the  Son  of  Man.  Jesus  was 
not  only  God,  but  He  alone  of  all  men  fully 
apprehended  and  understood  the  Father.  "No 
man  knoweth  the  Father  but  the  Son,  and  he 
to  whom  the  Son  will  reveal  him."  By  our- 
selves, therefore,  and  if  left  to  ourselves,  no  one 
of  us  can  apprehend  God  with  the  sense  of  the 
soul,  nor  see  him  with  the  eye  of  the  soul.  Jesus 
alone  was  able  to  do  this,  and  is  able  to  do  so 
still,  but  not  we.  Only  when  we  go  to  Jesus  and 
enter  into  fellowship  with  him  is  the  way  to  this 
open  to  us,  whereby  we  become  living  members 
of  this  mystical  body  of  which  he  is  the  head. 
And  then  not  only  do  we  see  God  in  Jesus,  but 
God  also  comes  to  tabernacle  in  us  by  the  Holy 
Ghost.  Philip,  have  I  been  so  long  time  with 
you,  and  do  you  still  say:  Show  me  the  Father? 
He  that  hath  seen  me  hath  seen  the  Father  in 
me  and  through  me,  your  Spvior. 

136 


"WITH  ALL  THY  SOUL." 

When  the  question  is  raised  whether  there  is 
one  that  seeks  after  God,  the  Psalmist  denies  it 
and    bitterly    complains:      ''They    are    all    gone 
aside,  there  is  none  that  doeth  good,  no,  not  one. 
There  is  none  that  understandeth,  there  is  none 
that   seeketh   after   God"    (14:3).     But   was   the 
singer  insincere  when  in  the  ear  of  the  ages  he 
sang'  so  touchingly :     "As  the  heart  panteth  after 
the  water  brooks,  so  panteth  my  soul  after  Thee, 
O  God"  (42:1).     Or  did  Asaph  dissemble  a  state 
of  soul,  which  would  have  been  self-deceit,  when 
he  said:     "Nevertheless,  I  am   continually  with 
Thee?"  (Ps.  73:23).    By  no  means.    The  question 
meant  whether  by  nature  there  was  one  man  in 
whose  heart  the  magnetic  drawing  is  after  God, 
even    in   such    a    degree    as   to    overcome    every 
resistance  and  hindrance.    The  answer  to  this  is: 
no,  and  ever  again:  no.    There  is  no  such  draw- 
ing in  the  human  heart.     It  has  been  corrupted 
and   crippled  and  is  no  longer  what  it  was  by 
Divine  creation,  but  what  it  has  become  by  self- 
delusion.    The  number  of  those  who  take  religion 
seriously  is  small,  and  much  smaller  yet  the  num- 
ber of  those  who  recover  the  true  type  of  piety. 
Take  these,  together  with  those  who  seem  relig- 
ious, and  watch  them  and  listen  as  they  talk,  and 
we   find  them   superficial   and   mechanical   to   an 
amazing  degree.     We  rarely  meet  with  a  seeking 
soul  that  makes  it  a  business  to  draw  near  to 
God,  and  to  find  him.    Even  in  prayer,  in  church 
or  at  home,  the  question  can  sometimes  scarcely 

137 


be  repressed:  Does  this  man  or  woman,  when  the 
Amen  has  passed  the  hps,  come  away  from  God, 
or  has  the  soul,  even  in  devotions,  been  as  far  as 
ever  away  from  him? 

Undoubtedly  there  are  always  some  who  in 
praj'-er  and  at  other  times  seek  fellowship  with 
God  in  their  heart.  Upon  inquiry,  however,  we 
learn  that  the  magnetic  drawing  did  not  originate 
with  themselves,  but  that  God  drew  them.  We 
do  not  know  why  Divine  power  operates  in  the 
case  of  one  and  not  of  another.  The  fact  remains 
that  as  the  magnet  draws  the  steel  to  itself,  God 
can  draw  the  soul.  And  when  he  does,  the  draw- 
ing is  irresistible,  i^nd  the  soul  seeks  God 
because  God  draws  it. 

Is  the  approach  of  the  soul  to  God  through  the 
understanding,  will,  feeling  or  imagination,  or  is 
it  through  an  inexplicable  mysterious  working 
which  we  can  not  name?  The  answer  differs 
according  to  those  who  give  it.  The  one  attributes 
it  to  intellectual  and  doctrinal  knowledge  of  God; 
the  other  to  the  fellowship  of  love;  a'  third  to 
submission  of  the  will ;  a  fourth  to  visions ;  a  fifth 
to  inspirations,  and  the  more  people  are  asked, 
the  more  widely  the  answers  differ.  Here  dispo- 
sition and  temperament  play  the  chief  role.  The 
subtle,  analytical  investigator  of  ideas  and  defini- 
tions entrenches  himself  in  strong  doctrinal  con- 
fessions; the  man  of  action,  in  devotion  to  prac- 
tical ends;  he  whose  nature  is  finely  strung,  in  the 
note  of  pensive  longing  which  he  elicits  from  his 
p'^irt'ons;  and  the  imaginative  mind,  inclined  to 
fancies  of  every  sort,  in  representations  and 
ingenious  imagery.  Every  one  after  his  own  kind, 
we  may  say.    Such  is  the  case  now,  and  so  it  was 

138 


in  times  past.  From  ancient  writings  we  see  peo- 
ple of  the  long  ago  live  and  move  before  us,  and 
things  oi  the  past  appear  like  things  of  the 
present.  All  sorts  of  currents  and  schools  and 
tendencies  of  thought  are  ever  abroad,  one  one 
waj'  and  the  other  another.  Unanimity  there  is 
none.    Seeking  God  with  all  the  heart  is  unknown. 

This  shows  that  the  preference  for  one  method 
of  seeking  God  bars  the  way  to  other  equally 
efiicasious  methods  of  doing  the  same,  and  that 
God's  children  should  freely  employ  all  methods 
in  order  to  be  wholly  free  in  their  communion 
with  the  Eternal.  God  is  not  found  by  one  power 
of  soul  in  distinction  from  another,  but  by  all 
the  soul.  God  is  not  apprehended  by  human 
knowledge,  or  will,  or  play  of  imagination,  but  by 
the  knowing,  willing  and  thinking  soul  as  a  whole, 
in  its  inner  unity  and  soundness.  Ray  by  ray 
shines  in,  but  all  are  caught  in  the  focus  of  the 
soul-life  in  process  of  becoming  aware  of  itself 
and  of  its  environments,  and  the  act  of  catching 
all  these  rays  is  called  faith. 

Here,  too,  the  diflaculty  springs  from  the  inward 
ruin  occasioned  by  sin,  which  is  still  esteemed  too 
lightly,  because  it  is  sought  too  exclusively  within 
the  scope  of  morals.  The  injury  worked  by  sin  is 
only  fully  known  when  its  fatal  effects  are  traced 
in  religion.  Things  become  far  more  important 
when  it  concerns  our  relation  to  God.  For  in  con- 
nection with  this  everything  centers  in  the  first 
and  great  commandment:  To  love  God  with  all 
the  soul  and  with  all  the  strength.  This  is  pos- 
sible. The  soul  was  created  and  equipped  for  this. 
It  can  safely  be  said  that  when  the  soul  operates 
normally  it  can  not  do  otherwise  than  direct  itself 

139 


altogether  and  with  all  its  strength  to  God.  In 
no  other  realm  of  life,  therefore,  does  it  show 
more  strongly  than  in  religion  how  utterly 
abnormal  the  soul  has  become  by  sin.  And  the 
worst  of  it  is,  that  in  this  matter  of  religion  the 
soul  itself  is  so  little  conscious  of  it.  He  who 
has  committed  a  crime  knows  it,  and  finds  no  dif- 
ficulty on  his  knees  in  confessing  it  before  God. 
With  the  finer  forms  of  transgression  in  morals 
this  inner  sense  may  fail  us,  but  with  the  coarser 
forms  of  sin  the  conscience  almost  always  speaks 
in  every  man.  But  when  the  first  and  great  com- 
mandment is  violated,  almost  no  one  is  conscious 
of  it.  Thousands  upon  thousands  every  day  deny 
God  all  love,  withdraw  their  whole  soul  from 
him.  rob  him  of  all  their  strength,  and  thus  in 
the  matter  of  religion  they  are  hardened  crim- 
inals, who  do  not  even  know  that  they  sin.  Even 
with  the  saved,  who  have  confessed  to  love  God, 
the  case  is  nearly  the  same.  For  some  among 
these  give  God  only  a  small  part  of  their  soul, 
work  for  him  indifferently  with  only  a  few  of 
their  powers,  and  as  they  kneel  in  prayer  at  night 
are  quite  unconscious  of  the  fact,  that  they  have 
broken  the  larger  part  of  the  first  and  great  com- 
mandment. 

This  fatal  defect  shows  itself  when  the  powers 
of  soul,  which  by  reason  of  disposition  and  tem- 
perament are  most  prepared  to  act,  and  which 
therefore  require  the  least  sacrifice  of  self,  are 
given  free  rein.  When  a  man  who  is  naturally 
intellectual  becomes  pious,  he  applies  himself  to 
doctrine.  If  to  know  the  only  true  God  is 
eternal  life,  he  makes  himself  doctrinally  strong. 
He   has   nothing   to  do  with   knowledge   of  God 

140 


that  is  obtained  along  other  Hnes  than  those  of 
close,  analytical  studies,  and  in  these  he  is  pro- 
ficient. With  utmost  pains  he  traces  what  the 
great  thinkers  have  put  into  their  several  doc- 
trinal systems  regarding  the  Being,  Work,  Person 
and  Attributes  of  God.  On  this  he  ponders.  To 
him  it  appeals.  He  prides  himself  on  it  before 
others.  He  really  thinks  that  in  this  way  he  has 
acquired  the  true  knowledge  of  God.  No,  says 
another,  Jesus  has  said  that  he  who  doeth  the 
will  of  his  Father  who  is  in  heaven,  shall  know 
the  glories  of  the  faith.  As  a  man  of  action, 
therefore,  he  gives  liberally  of  his  means,  labors 
with  zeal  and  enthusiasm,  in  which  few  equal 
and  none  surpass  him,  brings  willing  offerings  one 
after  another,  and  with  all  his  strength  devotes 
himself  to  the  interests  of  the  kingdom — but  he 
has  a  dislike  for  all  doctrinal  niceties.  He  makes 
no  confe^ion  with  words.  The  all  important 
thing  with  him  is  confession  in  practical  life.  A 
third  has  no  interest  either  in  doctrine  or  in 
works,  but  is  emotional.  He,  therefore,  seeks  his 
strength  in  tender  feelings,  soulful  utterances, 
mystical  perceptions  of  love,  and  thinks  that  in 
these  he  comes  closer  to  God.  Imagination  is 
the  part  of  fantasy  with  another  who  seeks  to 
establish  his  strength  in  visions  and  mystical  rep- 
resentations, and  in  the  contemplation  of  the 
things  which  his  soul-eye  discerns  he  is  most 
happy.  Did  not  St.  Paul  glory  in  rare  exaltations 
of  spirit  and  in  being  caught  up  into  higher 
spheres?  Add  to  these,  inspirations,  suggestions, 
experiences  in  which  the  soul  is  aware  of  sudden 
motions,  and  so  much  more,  and  it  is  readily  seen 
that     impressions    and     motions     of    soul     differ 

141 


greatl3'  when  a  man  becomes  inwardly  athirst  for 
God. 

The  pity  of  it  is  that  so  far  from  realizing 
that  all  these  w^orkings,  powers  and  exertions  are 
bound  to  express  themselves  in  love  of  God,  so 
that  loving  God  with  all  the  soul  may  become 
real,  the  children  of  God,  for  the  most  part,  hold 
themselves  back  within  their  own  retreat,  seek 
God  with  only  one  power  of  their  soul,  and  not 
infrequently  criticize  a  brother  who  seeks  salva- 
tion by  the  use  of  another  soul-power  than  they 
themselves  employ.  "With  all  thy  soul,"  said 
Jesus.  "With  a  part  of  my  soul,"  they  reply. 
And  just  because  they  are  truly  pious  and  sincere 
of  purpose,  they  do  not  tremble  at  the  thought 
of  leaving  the  rest  of  their  soul  inactive  for  God. 


I   SAW   ALSO   THE  LORD. 

"And  this  is  life  eternal,  that  they  might  know 
Thee,  the  Only  true  God."  But  then  we  must 
not  only  know  God  intellectually,  but  with  every 
power  at  our  disposal.  As  knowledge  it  must  be 
the  result  and  summary  of  every  observation  and 
perception.  In  connection  wuth  this  at  once  the 
question  arises  whether  imagination,  or  more  gen- 
erally, the  power  of  representation,  plays  a  part 
in  this.  A  superficial  mind  inclines  to  answer  this 
Spirit  means  that  all  corporeity  and  materiality 
must  be  excluded  from  it,  no  manifestation  of 
negatively.  For  God  is  Spirit.  And  if  the  word 
God  is  possible  in  any  way  whatever.  If  all  out- 
ward divine  manifestation  is  unthinkable,  how 
can  we  make  a  representation  of  God.     We  can 

142 


make  forms  and  figures  of  idols  after  the  manner 
of  heathen  nations,  but  these  are  contrivances 
pure  and  simple.  And  in  this  matter  of  knowing 
God,  which  is  eternal  life,  we  have  no  interest  in 
cunningly  constructed  fabrications.  We  want 
reality.  Hence  we  would  say  that  there  can  be 
no  representation  of  God,  no  outward  manifesta- 
tion of  him  can  show  itself,  for  the  reason  that 
his  absolute  spirituality  excludes  every  idea  of 
matter,  form  or  dimension. 

But  however  convincing  this  maj'  seem,  it  does 
not  end  the  matter.  How  can  we  interpret 
Isaiah's  words  in  the  narrative  of  his  vision-call 
(6:1)?  Including  the  record  of  the  vear  in  which 
it  happened  he  declares:  ''I  also  saw  the  Lord 
sitting  upon  a  throne,  high  and  lifted  up,  and 
his  train  filled  the  temple." 

We  leave  the  question  unanswered  whether 
Isaiah  saw  some  outside  appearance,  or  whether 
something  presented  itself  to  him  in  his  inner 
range  of  vision.  It  is  enough  that  God  mani- 
fested himself  to  the  prophet  in  such  a  way  that 
it  enabled  him  to  give  a  description  of  it  in 
writing.  It  was  an  appearance  which  took  such 
a  forcible  hold  upon  him.  in  connection  with 
which  so  many  things  took  place,  and  which 
resulted  in  such  important  prophecies,  that  it 
affected  all  his  after  life. 

We  who  in  his  inspirations  and  prophecies 
honor  the  work  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  can  not  take 
this  vision  of  his  call  as  a  meaningless  product 
of  an  unhealthy  imagination.  There  was  reality 
in  this  v^ision,  and  an  action  on  the  part  of  God. 
And  we  conclude  that  among  the  many  means  by 
which  God  can  make  himself  known  to  man,  he 

143 


has  also  used  observable  representation,  however 
transient. 

In  the  New.  as  well  as  in  the  Old  Testament, 
we  read  repeatedly  of  angel-appearances  and  of 
appearances  of  the  Messiah  before  his  incarna- 
tion. And  are  not  angels  spirits  like  God  him- 
self, incorporeal  and  immaterial?  We  hear 
repeatedly  that  angels  appear,  and  speak  and  act. 
The  angel  that  smote  the  armies  of  Sennacherib 
stands  in  line  with  the  angel  that  led  Peter  out 
of  prison.  Before  his  incarnation  the  existence 
of  Christ  was  purely  spiritual,  but  with  him  the 
outward  manifestation,  and  with  it  the  clear  rep- 
resentation, went  so  far  in  ancient  times  that  the 
patriarch  received  him  in  his  tent  and  enter- 
tained him  with  a  meal  at  his  table.  It  is  well 
known  that  this  is  scoffed  at,  and  that  it  is  put  to 
the  score  of  innocent  fiction;  but  less  superficial 
psychology  is  not  satisfied  with  this,  and  inclines 
to  attach  to  such  an  account  a  much  higher,  inner 
value.  When  during  his  earthly  ministry  Christ 
accepted  the  Old  Testament  records  of  such 
appearances  literally,  including  those  which 
referred  to  himself,  and  ratified  them  in  their 
immediate  signification,  what  other  conclusion  can 
we  reach,  than  that  a  certain  appearance  and  a 
certain  representation,  of  a  Being  which  like  that 
of  God  is  purely  spiritual  by  itself,  is  not  unthink- 
able. 

The  Scripture  always  pictures  this  appearance 
and  representation  in  the  religious  hfe,  with  human 
features.  In  connection  with  the  Cherubim  we 
read  of  animal  forms,  of  a  lion  and  so  on,  which 
serve  to  represent  great  power  and  glory.  But  in 
every   meeting  with   man  the  appearance   of  an 


angel,  of  the  Messiah,  or  as  in  Isaiah  6,  of  the 
Eternal  Being  himself,  takes  place  in  human  form, 
in  human  dress,  and  with  the  use  of  human  lan- 
guage. With  appearances  of  angels  there  is  no 
mention  of  wings,  borrowed  from  the  animal 
world;  of  these  we  read  in  connection  with 
Seraphs  surrounding  God's  throne. 

The  fixed  application  of  the  human  form  in  this 
connection  is  significant.  The  appearance  of 
spirits  in  human  form  is  immediately  connected 
with  the  creation  of  man  after  God's  image. 
Christ  himself  is  called  the  Image  of  the  Invisible 
God,  "the  express  Image  of  his  person."  And  we 
are  told  that  man  is  created  after  this  Image,  so 
that  there  is  a  certain  likeness  between  these  two. 
What  then  could  have  been  more  natural  than 
that  the  Eternal  God,  in  order  to  reveal  himself 
to  man,  either  by  himself  or  by  his  angels,  should 
have  passed  over  from  himself  to  his  Image,  and 
from  his  Image  to  man?  The  very  thought  that 
there  is  an  Image  of  God  implies  that  it  is  a  mis- 
take to  think  that  there  can  be  no  distinction  and 
no  expression  in  a  spirit.  It  shows  that  God's 
life  by  itself  is  not  an  unbroken  sameness,  but 
that  it  consists  of  an  infinite  yet  undivided  ful- 
ness of  distinctions,  and  that  this  varied  life  which 
is  continually  present  with  him  in  his  conscious- 
ness, is  to  him  the  Image  of  his  Divine  Being. 

In  any  case  it  is  certain  that  when  God  created 
man  after  his  Image,  this  Image  was  there  before 
he  could  create  man  after  it.  And  also  that  this 
Image  has  always  provided  the  way  by  which  to 
reveal  himself  to  man  in  human  form.  This  was 
only  completed  in  the  fulness  of  time  at  Bethle- 
hem,   though    it    was    foreshadowed    in    previous 

145 


appearances.  In  connection,  therefore,  with  the 
knowledge  of  God,  which  is  eternal  life,  the  imag- 
inative life  of  our  spirit  must  also  be  considered. 

The  key  to  this  secret  is,  that  spirit  and  matter, 
God  and  the  world,  are  distinguished  from  one 
another  in  such  a  way  that  it  can  never  be 
ignored.  For  if  we  do  we  are,  whether  we  will  or 
not,  irresistibly  drawn  into  Pantheism.  While  on 
the  other  hand  it  can  not  be  denied  that  God 
has  created  the  world,  so  that  whatever  there  is 
in  the  world  can  never  express  anything  else  than 
what  has  been  thought  out  by  God,  even  the 
Word  from  all  eternity.  Likewise  as  regards  our 
soul  and  body,  it  must  be  inexorably  maintained, 
that  these  are  two,  even  in  this  sense,  that  after 
death  the  soul  continues  its  life  in  the  disem- 
bodied state  until  the  resurrection.  Though  again 
it  should  not  be  forgotten  that  soul  and  body 
complement  one  another,  and  that  the  soul  can 
only  reveal  the  fulness  of  its  power  through  the 
body. 

This  gives  rise  to  a  threefold  realm  of  activity. 
One  is  the  realm  of  pure  spiritual  activity. 
Another  is  the  realm  of  activity  through  and  with 
the  aid  of  the  body.  And  there  is  also  a  mixed 
domain,  in  which  the  spirit  truly  operates  purely 
spiritually^  but  with  data  from  the  world  of  sense. 

The  use  of  images  in  spoken  language  can  not 
be  reckoned  with  this.  We  know  by  these  that 
we  mean  something  metaphorical,  something  out- 
side of  reality.  When  the  righteous  is  said  to  be 
as  courageous  as  a  lion,  everyone  understands  that 
it  does  not  mean  a  real,  devouring  beast.  But  it 
is  different  in  dreams.  Then  we  see  people  and 
co-operate   with   them.     We   engage   in   conversa- 

146 


tion.  We  are  attacked.  And  everything  seems  so 
real  to  us  that  on  awakening  in  fright,  we  find 
it  difficult  to  believe  that  the  burglar  who  threat- 
ened our  life  does  not  stand  by  our  bed. 

This  impression  of  reality  in  what  is  imagined 
is  still  stronger  and  much  more  acute  in  a  vision. 
One  can  almost  say  that  visions  are  dreams 
which  one  dreams  not  in  sleep  upon  the  bed,  but 
by  day,  while  one  is  fully  awake.  And  though 
this  vision-life  is  far  more  common  in  the  East 
than  it  is  with  us,  yet  it  is  a  mistake  to  suppose 
that  it  does  not  exist  among  us.  Meanwhile  an 
appearance  far  excels  in  clearness  and  reality  both 
dream  and  vision.  That  we  feel  so  little  at  home 
in  this  realm  is  only  explained  from  the  fact  that 
science  can  not  tell  anything  about  these  spiritua,! 
operations.  It  lacks  sufficient,  certain  data  for 
observation,  and  has  not  been  able  thus  far  to 
enter  this  mysterious  domain.  Before  this  world 
of  real  workings,  it  stands  helpless.  This  encour- 
ages unbelieving  science  proudly  to  deny  the 
reality  of  it,  while  believing  science,  confessing  its 
inability  to  grasp  it,  gratefully  accepts  what  has 
been  revealed  regarding  it  in  Scripture. 

We  should  be  on  our  guard  therefore  lest  we  say 
that  in  connection  with  our  knowledge  of  God 
the  imaginative  life  has  no  message  for  us.  The 
intellectual  man  who  asserts  this,  contradicts 
Scripture  all  too  boldly.  The  second  command- 
ment certainly  binds  us;  that  is  to  say,  it  for- 
bids us  to  make  an  image  of  God,  even  in  our 
imagination.  The  imaginative  life  may  operate 
in  behalf  of  the  knowledge  of  God,  when  God 
quickens  it  in  us;  as  in  the  case  of  Isaiah's  vision 
of  his  call,  or  in  the  appearances  to  Abraham. 

147 


This  forming  of  images  has  at  last  been  per- 
fected in  the  "human  nature"  of  Christ.  After 
he  had  entered  into  glory,  Christ  appeared  to  St. 
John  on  Patmos  in  his  human  nature  and  the 
manner  of  this  appearance  has  been  committed 
to  writing  for  us.  This  is  the  only  appearance 
of  Christ,  given  to  the  church,  that  may  and 
should  govern  our  imaginative  life. 

To  this  we  add  that  in  a  child  of  God  even 
here  something  of  his  Father  is  manifest.  The 
nobler  the  Christian  life,  the  more  this  is  visible. 
The  weaker  the  Christian  life,  the  less  apparent 
it  is.  But  when  a  Christian  life  is  deeply  spiritual, 
they  who  are  equally  devout,  see  through  it,  as 
it.  were,  something  of  the  Image  of  the  Eternal 
God.  From  this  it  follows  that  if  we  are  God's 
children  it  is  our  high  calling,  not  by  our  imag- 
ination, but  by  the  image-forming  manifestation 
of  our  entire  personality  to  cause  something  of 
the  Father  to  be  seen  by  those  who  are  of  the 
household  of  faith. 

29 

'TF  ANY  MAN  WILL  DO  HIS  WILL." 

In  behalf  of  the  knowledge  of  God  there  is 
great  power  in  conformity  to  his  will.  God 
becomes  known  to  us  by  studious  thought,  by 
play  of  the  imagination,  by  inner  experience  and 
in  other  ways.  But  it  can  not  be  denied  that  he 
also  becomes  known  to  us  by  the  will.  Within 
the  last  fifty  years  the  will  has  been  put  in  the 
foreground,  by  which  to  interpret  many  things 
which  no  one  associated  with  it  before.  An  impor- 
tant school  of  philosophy  has  emphasized  the  will 

148 


to  such  an  extent  that  the  significance  of  the 
other  activities  of  the  human  spirit  has  suffered 
serious  loss.  The  fundamental  position  of  this 
school  is  that  the  will  alone  determines  things, 
accomplishes  things,  creates  reality,  and  makes 
itself  known  as  a  power ;  and  that  the  more  deeply 
one  studies  the  question  the  more  irresistibly  one 
is  forced  to  acknowledge  that  the  will  is  the  only 
power  that  governs  and  employs  all  other  powers. 
This  was  confirmed  by  history.  It  is  observed  in 
the  present.  In  every  department  of  life  the  man 
of  will  exercises  authority  and  overrides  the  weak. 
From  man  we  have  learned  the  wonderful  power 
of  will.  Similar  phenomena  have  been  traced  in 
the  animal-world,  but  too  little  is  known  of  this 
to  build  on.  And  so  it  has  seemed  safest  to  make 
the  power  to  will,  as  it  showed  itself  in  man,  the 
starting  point. 

But,  of  course,  it  could  not  stop  with  this.  The 
phenomenon  of  the  will  is  too  great,  and  its  dom- 
inance too  prevalent,  than  that  it  can  exist  in  man 
otherwise  than  derivatively.  In  the  original  state 
of  things  the  will  existed  outside  of  man,  and  man 
himself  was  the  product  of  the  great  supreme 
Universal- will  that  brought  all  things  to  pass. 
What  until  now  had  been  worshipped  in  the  world 
as  God,  or  had  been  denounced  as  Satan,  was 
according  to  this  school  nothing  but  that  Uni- 
versal-will, the  gigantic  will-power  by  which 
everything  is  what  it  is.  The  world  shows  any- 
thing but  wisdom  and  less  love.  It  is  but  the 
product  of  monstrous  will-power.  Hence  the 
unsatisfying  condition  of  its  life.  And  since  in 
us  also,  on  a  small  scale,  there  is  a  will  with 
power  of  will,  the  supreme  duty  of  human  life 


is  to  train  the  will,  to  develop  it,  to  apply  it  to 
mighty  deeds,  and  with  this  strongly  trained 
human  will  to  maintain  ourselves  in  the  face  of 
the  Universal- will.  Hence  everything  that  is,  and 
everything  that  is  called  history,  and  life  itself 
is  reduced  to  one  power,  and  the  only  thing  that 
is  supremely  high  and  holy  is  our  personal  will. 

That  the  philosophic  school  which  oracled  like 
this  is  diametrically  opposed  to  all  religion,  and 
more  especially  to  the  Christian  religion,  needs 
no  demonstration.  But  it  is  noteworthy  that  the 
Christian  religion  in  the  Christian  church,  simul- 
taneously revealed  an  allied  tendency,  which  like- 
wise put  the  will  in  the  foreground,  and  at  length 
subordinated  every  other  utterance  of  the  Chris- 
tian faith  to  it.  We  mean  that  religious  tendency 
which  interprets  the  confession  with  ever  greater 
liberality,  which  allows  feeling  and  sentiment  ever 
less  opportunity  of  being  heard,  and  shows  ever 
more  the  need  and  inclination  to  exhibit  Chris- 
tianity solely  and  alone  in  works  and  display  of 
power,  that  is  to  say,  in  utterances  of  the  will. 
This  idea  and  inclination  was  not  born  nor  taken 
from  this  philosophic  school,  but  owed  its  rise 
to  an  universal  phenomenon,  which  shows  itself 
in  human  life.  The  healthful  Reformation  in 
the  ecclesiastical  world  was  followed  first  by  the 
barren  period  of  dogmatics  in  the  17th  century, 
and  after  that  by  the  period  of  emotional  religion 
in  the  18th  century.  As  neither  the  one  nor  the 
other  proved  satisfactory,  and  as  it  became 
evident  that  between  these  two,  Christianity  was 
losing  strength,  it  naturally  came  to  pass  that 
with  the  depreciation  of  subtle  credal  statements, 
and  an  increasing  distaste  for  weak  emotionalism, 

160 


another  extreme  was  reached  in  the  effort  to 
realize  the  Christian  spirit  in  acts  of  the  will. 
Not  the  hearer,  but  the  doer  of  the  law  shall 
be  holy.  Not  every  one  that  sayeth,  Lord,  Lord, 
but  he  that  doeth  the  will  of  my  Father  who  is 
in  heaven  shall  be  saved.  If  any  one  doeth 
His  will,  he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine,  whether 
it  be  of  God  (John  7:17).  In  brief,  in  behalf  of 
this  new  effort,  many  clear  and  strong  utterances 
of  Holy  Scripture  could  be  cited.  Thus  a  tend- 
ency found  an  open  door  in  every  direction,  which 
could  boast  of  its  meritorious  exhibition  of  Chris- 
tian works,  but  with  this  drawback  always,  that 
it  under-estimated  both  the  confessional  state- 
ments of  the  church  and  mysticism. 

The  well-known  fact  that  in  the  Christian 
stmggle  of  the  19th  century  English  Christians 
stood  in  the  front  ranks,  was  a  powerful  aid  in 
this  direction.  The  period  of  concise  confessional 
statements  was  dominated  by  Switzerland,  France 
and  the  Netherlands.  The  emotional  period  had 
been  brought  into  prominence  by  German  and 
French  sentimentalists.  But  with  the  19th  cen- 
tury England  appeared  in  the  foreground.  Eng- 
land with  its  matter-of-fact  system,  its  commer- 
cial spirit  and  cool  determination  of  will.  From 
England  the  thirst  after  deeds  crossed  over  to  the 
continent  of  Europe,  and  what  this  tendency-of- 
will  accomplished  in  the  interests  of  philanthropy 
and  missions  can  never  be  fully  appreciated.  It 
gave  birth  to  a  new  life  and  encouraged  the  desire 
to  exercise  power.  It  simultaneously  put  to 
shame  the  barren  and  meagre  results  of  intel- 
lectual orthodoxy,  and  the  weak  and  sickly  fruit 
of  sentimental  mysticism.     It  inspired  a  willing- 


ness  to  give.  It  inspired  a  devotion  and  an  energy 
of  faith  such  as  had  not  been  in  evidence  among 
us  since  the  daj^s  of  the  Reformation.  In  the 
Salvation  Army,  which  is  the  most  sharply  defined 
exhibition  of  this  tendency  and  at  the  same  time 
its  crudest  expression,  there  showed  itself  a  many- 
sided  activity  in  behalf  of  the  poor  and  the  unfor- 
tunate which  aroused  sympathy  even  in  unbeliev- 
ing hearts. 

The  onesidedness,  however,  of  this  movement 
is  a  matter  of  regret,  since  it  incurred  the  danger 
of  abandoning  justification  by  faith,  and  of  putting 
in  its  place  salvation  by  good  works.  The  center 
of  gravity  was  transferred  too  much  from  God  to 
man.  The  outward  supplanted  the  inward  life 
of  piety.  And  as  on  the  part  of  unbelievers  there 
was  great  and  self-sacrificing  activity  along  phil- 
anthropic lines,  it  soon  became  evident  that  peo- 
ple of  this  "Gospel  of  works"  felt  themselves  in 
closer  sympathy  with  unbelievers  who  shared  their 
ideal  of  works  than  with  the  confessors  of  Christ, 
who  fell  short  of  it.  And  what  cut  more  deeply 
still  is  that  real  religion,  which  is  the  search 
after  fellowship  with  God,  was  undeniably  more 
and  more  lost  in  this  Gospel  of  the  Will.  There 
was  too  much  lack  of  loveable,  tender  piety.  The 
delicate  plant  of  devotion  became  more  and  more 
mouldy.  And  both  in  preaching  and  in  private 
conversation  the  hidden  walk  with  God,  the  quiet 
ways  of  the  secret  of  redemption,  salvation  by 
faith  and  being  hid  in  Christ  received  ever  less 
attention,  until  at  length  nothing  more  was  heard 
of  it.  Everything  had  to  be  doing,  nothing  but 
doing.  All  that  was  asked  for  was  facts  and  still 
again  facts.    The  method  came  in  vogue  to  com- 

152 


pute  these  deeds  in  numbers,  and  from  high  figures 
to  infer  that  God  crowned  the  work  with  blessing. 
There  were  statistics  of  converts,  of  moneys  raised, 
of  society  memberships,  of  the  hungry  that  had 
been  fed,  of  the  naked  that  had  been  clothed,  of 
the  sick  that  had  been  healed.  And  flattery  on 
account  of  such  showing  was  not  always  unaccept- 
able. 

And  when  it  w^as  objected  that  Christianity  in 
this  way  was  externalized,  and  that  the  knowl- 
edge of  God  which  is  eternal  life  was  relegated 
to  the  book  of  forgetfulness,  the  answer  was,  that 
this  surmise  rested  upon  a  misunderstanding,  since 
true  knowledge  of  God  does  not  come  through  the 
intellect,  and  not  through  emotion,  but  through 
the  will.  He  who  doeth  the  will  of  God  knoweth 
the  Eternal.  This  pretext  will  be  examined  in  the 
following  meditation. 


"INCREASING  IN  THE  KNOWLEDGE 
OF  GOD." 

He  that  doeth  the  will  of  God  naturally  grows 
thereby  in  the  knowledge  of  God.  Of  two  per- 
sons, the  one  who  is  careful  and  conscientious  in 
his  confession,  but  careless  as  to  his  manner  of 
life,  has  less  chance  to  know  the  Lord  than  the 
other  who  is  careful  and  conscientious  in  his  man- 
ner of  life,  but  indifferent  in  his  confession.  The 
so-called  practical  Christianity,  the  tendency 
which  seeks  salvation  in  christian  works,  was 
correct  to  this  extent,  that  doing  the  will  of  God 
is  certainly  one  of  the  means  which  is  indispen- 
sable to  him  who  would  have  a  full  knowledge 
of  God. 

153 


If  the  knowledge  of  God  is  eternal  life,  Divine 
knowledge  can  not  be  something  apart  from  life. 
Do  not  forget,  eternal  life  is  not  life  hereafter. 
It  is  a  life  which  does  not  spring  from  the  cistern, 
but  from  the  fountain.  Such  knowledge  of  God 
which  is  itself  eternal  life  is  unthinkable,  there- 
fore, apart  from  practical  life.  When  a  will 
operates  in  all  our  works,  and  when  our  works  are 
only  good  when  they  conform  to  the  will  of 
God,  it  is  evident  that  there  is  a  connection 
between  the  knowledge  of  God  and  the  doing  of 
his  will. 

The  ox  knoweth  his  owner,  Isaiah  tells  us,  but 
Israel  does  not  understand.  We  would  say:  A 
horse  knows  his  rider.  The  draft-ox  is  not  much 
used  among  us.  But  how  does  he  know  his 
owner,  or  the  horse  his  rider?  Certainly  in  part 
by  the  eye  and  by  the  ear,  but  even  more  by 
the  manner  in  which  they  are  treated.  When  the 
rider  comes  up  from  behind,  so  that  the  horse 
does  not  see  him,  and  utters  no  word  or  sound, 
so  that  the  animal  does  not  hear  him,  the  thor- 
oughbred knows  his  rider  at  once,  and  knows 
immediately  whether  his  rider  or  a  stranger 
springs  into  the  saddle.  A  good  riding-horse 
knows  the  will  of  his  rider.  He  knows  it  even 
so  well  that  at  length  horse  and  rider  become  one, 
and  on  the  field  of  battle  the  horse  will  do  his 
rider's  wish,  even  with  loosened  bridle.  Thus  by 
careful  training  the  animal  has  obtained  such 
knowledge  of  his  owner  that  to  him  it  has  become 
a  living  subordinate  instrument. 

Likewise  the  child  of  God  that  has  lived  accord- 
ing to  God's  will,  and  at  the  hand  of  that  will 
itself    has    conformed    himself    to    it.    has    come 

154 


to  an  instinctive  knowledge  of  God  such  as  no 
Catechism  or  Confession  can  impart.  We  do  not 
say  that  this  knowledge  thus  obtained  is  the 
only  knowledge  of  God,  nor  that  it  is  sufficient, 
nor  that  it  offers  satisfactory  clearness;  all  we 
mean  to  say  is:  that  doing  God's  will  introduces 
a  trait  of  its  own  into  the  knowledge  of  God, 
which  is  indispensable  if  that  knowledge  is  to  be 
a  living  knowledge,  and  which  can  not  be 
replaced  by  anything  else,  be  it  understanding 
or  feeling.  .  ,  i       u 

Take    the    case    of    forgiving    those    who    have 
trespassed   against   us.     As    children   of   God   we 
well   know  that  this  is  our  duty.     We  know  it 
even   so  well   that   we   are   well   aware   that   the 
matter  is  not  ended  when  we  are  outwardly  kind 
and  return  no  evil  for  evil.    Christian  forgiveness 
goes  farther  and  deeper  than  this.     It  must  be 
honest  forgiveness  without  any  reservation.     Our 
greatest   enemy    must   be    forgiven.     Those    who 
curse  us  we  must  bless.    We  must  love  those  who 
despitefully    use    us.     Consider   it   carefully:    we 
must  love  our  enemy.     We  must  not  show  him 
love   that  we  might  exhibit  our  generosity.     Ihis, 
in  fact,  can  only  humiliate  him.     No,  we  must 
love   him   as   ourselves.     It   is  almost  incompre- 
hensible,  yet   such   is    the    command.     As    it   is 
prayed  in  the  Our  Father:   Forgive  us  our  tres- 
passes, as  we  forgive  those  who  trespass  against 
us     To  forgive  from  love  is  the  measure  of  the 
forgiveness  of  sin  which  we  ask  of  God  for  our- 
selves.    Not  as  though  God  could  be  bound  to 
our   measure,   or   forgive  us  because   we   forgive. 
That  would  be  turning  the  Gospel  around.     But 
it  signifies  that  we  dare  not  ask  more  of  God  than 


155 


what  we  know  is  in  our  hearts  to  do  to  our 
debtors. 

All  this  only  shows  that  when  in  forgiving  our 
enemy  we  do  the  will  of  God,  we  learn  to  know 
what  it  is  to  forgive,  what  it  is  to  receive  from 
God  the  mind  and  the  will  to  forgive,  and  what 
it  is  to  come  to  the  knowledge  of  God  as  regards 
his  mind  and  will  to  forgive  us.  He  who  him- 
self does  not  forgive,  who  in  opposition  to  God's 
will  harbors  hatred  in  his  heart,  and  does  not  con- 
form himself  to  God's  will  in  this  matter  of  for- 
giveness, lacks  this  particular  knowledge  of  God, 
which  makes  it  clear  how  God  forgives  him. 

From  this  one  example  it  clearly  appears  that 
doing  the  will  of  God  increases  the  knowledge  of 
God;  not  metaphorically,  not  unreally,  but  in 
deed  and  in  truth. 

There  is  still  something  else  to  be  learned  from 
this.  The  practical  'Gospel  of  Works"  puts 
special  emphasis  upon  doing  extra  things;  things 
which  are  outside  of  he  ordinary  life.  By  pref- 
erence, therefore,  it  speaks  of  "Christian  works," 
by  which  it  means  things  outside  the  ordinary 
life  of  business,  family  and  society,  such  as  zeal 
for  missions,  visiting  the  poor,  care  for  the  sick 
and  blind.  And  in  part  this  interpretation  is 
instinctively  correct.  When  Christianity  goes  out 
into  the  world  nothing  of  all  this  can  stay  behind. 
It  all  belongs  to  it.  True,  genuine  Christianity 
can  not  be  satisfied  with  inspiring  ordinary  life 
alone.  It  brings  with  it  all  sorts  of  things  which 
remain  unknown  without  it.  Only  it  is  a  great 
mistake  to  suppose  that  the  roses  that  grow 
against  the  wall  are  the  main  thing,  and  that  the 
wall  itself  can  be  left  to  fall  into  ruins. 


No,  the  doing  of  God's  will  covers  all  of  life, 
the  ordinary  as  well  as  the  extraordinary,  and 
the  knowledge  of  God's  will  in  common  life  is  far 
finer,  more  intricate  and  more  difficult  than  it  is 
in  those  extraordinary  things.  To  know  what 
God's  will  is  in  our  personal  life,  in  our  busmess 
or  profession,  in  the  family  with  its  several  con- 
nections, in  society  and  in  the  world  in  general, 
is  a  study  that  is  never  ended  on  this  side  of  the 
grave.  To  learn  not  only  what  God's  will  is  m 
it  all,  but  to  bend  the  mind  according  to  it,  and 
to  conform  the  life  to  it,  even  to  its  minutest 
detail,  is  not  only  a  daily  study,  but  a  daily 
struggle,  in  which  he  alone  triumphs  who  is  led 
by  the  Spirit  of  God. 

He  who  appHes  himself  to  this,  who  makes  this 
his  daily  task,  learns  to  understand  Gods  will, 
and  with  every  victory  gained  increases  also  in 
the  knowledge  of  God.  A  knowledge  which  he 
does  not  acquire  with  his  understanding,  but  with 
his  whole  personality.  The  more  we  begin  to 
*-el  as  God  feels,  and  the  more  we  become  mimied 
ao  God  is,  the  more  truly  do  we  become  children 
of  the  Father  who  is  in  heaven.  For  then  we  will 
not  think  that  we  do  the  will  of  God,  when  only 
once  in  a  while  there  is  heroic  self-demal.  tJut 
we  will  understand  that  to  do  the  will  of  God  is 
to  be  so  changed  of  mind  and  inclination  that  we 
ourselves  wiU  what  God  wills.  And  he  who 
attains  unto  this  and  is  daily  engaged  in  this,  of 
himself  increases  in  the  knowledge  of  God  by 
increasing  in  the  knowledge  of  himself. 
This   wUl   be   plain   when   we   remember   that 

Being  and  Will   in  God  are  not  two,  but   one. 

God's  will  is  the  crystal-pure  expression  of  his 


157 


Being.  Hence  knowledge  of  God's  will  becomes 
of  itself  knowledge  of  his  Being.  The  one  can 
not  be  separated  from  the  other.  Only  this:  the 
will  of  God  can  only  be  truly  known  in  the  way 
of  the  will.  To  know  the  Ten  Commandments 
by  heart,  and  to  make  a  list  from  the  Scriptures 
of  every  utterance  of  God's  will,  does  not  justify 
a  man  in  the  least  for  saying  that  he  knows  the 
will  of  God.  He  may  know  it  from  memory,  but 
the  will  is  within,  and  can  only  be  known  within, 
by  having  the  personal  will  enter  into  the  will  of 
God. 

He  who  in  a  book  on  the  art  of  navigation  has 
read  what  a  captain  has  to  do  in  times  of  storm, 
does  not  know  what  it  is  to  pilot  a  ship  into 
a  safe  harbor.  This  is  only  known  to  him  who 
has  himself  been  out  at  sea  in  command  of  a  ship 
in  a  storm  and  has  brought  it  safely  to  port. 

Likewise  the  knowledge  of  God's  will  is  not 
acquired  by  learning  lessons  in  morality  by  heart, 
but  with  the  organ  of  our  own  will  God's  will 
must  be  so  understood  that  we  ourselves  fulfill 
it.  And  thus  only  in  the-way-of-the-will  do  we 
come  to  that  knowledge  of  God,  which  can  only 
be  learned  in  this  way. 

We  should  not  criticize  therefore  the  Gospel 
of  works,  as  though  it  had  no  use.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  is  absolutely  indispensable.  Only  it  must 
gain  in  depth.  It  must  be  applied  to  all  of  life. 
It  should  also  be  clearly  understood  that  so  far 
from  being  all  the  knowledge  of  God,  the  knowl- 
edge of  his  will  is  only  a  part  of  it.  Forsooth, 
it  is  an  indispensable  part,  but  only  in  union 
with  the  other  knowledge  of  God,  which  is 
obtained  through  the  understanding,  feeling  and 

158 


imagination,  does  it  form  one  whole.  All  these 
together  constitute  that  full  knowledge  of  God, 
which  is  eternal  life.  Only  do  not  lose  from  sight 
that  the  daily  increase  in  the  knowledge  of  God  is 
obtained  solely  and  alone  in  the  way  of  the  will. 
There  is  a  two-fold  will  of  God:  the  one  is  over 
us,  the  other  is  concerning  us.  The  will  of  God 
over  us  determines  our  life,  our  career  and  our 
lot  in  life.  It  was  with  reference  to  this  will  of 
God  that  Jesus  prayed:  Not  my  will,  but  thy 
will  be  done.  But  the  will  of  God  concerning  us 
shows  us  how  to  will,  what  to  do  and  to  leave 
undone;  and  regarding  this  will  of  God  we  pray 
in  the  Our  Father:  Thy  will  be  done  as  in 
heaven  by  the  angels,  so  also  on  earth  by  me. 
And  it  is  this  second,  this  last-named  will  of  God 
which  if  we  li^'e  m  it,  and  conform  ourselves  to 
it,  unconsciously  makes  us  increase  day  by  day 
in  the  knowledge  of  God. 

31 

"BESIDE  THE  STILL  WATERS." 

If  there  is  a  desire  to  know  God,  the  will  must 
be  studied  still  more  closely.  In  the  days  of  our 
fathers  the  field,  in  which  the  will  operates,  was 
not  suflBciently  plowed  and  harrowed.  The  great 
question  was  whether  the  will  was  free  or  bound. 
For  the  rest,  even  in  preaching  and  in  catechising, 
the  supreme  significance  of  the  will  was  ignored. 
Is  not  even  now  almost  the  whole  realm  of  the 
will  left  fallow? 

Of  course  this  does  not  mean  to  say,  that  both 
in  the  times  of  our  fathers,  and  in  our  own  past, 
there  has  been  no  increase  in  the  knowledge  of 

159 


God  through  the  will.  How  could  this  be  other- 
wise? The  will  does  not  come  into  action  by 
what  is  written  about  it  in  a  book,  or  preached 
on  it  from  the  pulpit.  It  is  the  Lord  who  inspires 
the  will  to  act,  and  in  action  to  direct  it  for  good. 
It  is  he  "who  worketh  in  you  both  to  will  and 
to  do  his  good  pleasure"  (Phil.  2:13),  and  how 
could  the  Lord  be  bound  to  sermon  or  lecture? 

We  only  mean  that  he  who  is  so  fortunate  and 
blessed  as  not  only  morning  by  morning  and  even- 
ing by  evening  to  be  refreshed  with  a  drop  of 
grace  from  the  fountain  of  Divine  Compassion, 
but  also  to  have  time  and  insight  to  meditate  on 
holy  things,  does  wrong  when  he  neglects  the 
investigation  of  such  an  important  component  part 
of  the  power  of  the  soul  as  the  will.  This  makes 
poor;  while  to  give  one's  mind  to  it  makes  rich. 
For  the  will  is  inscrutably  wonderful.  In  the 
creation  of  the  soul  it  constitutes  a  marvelous 
piece  of  Divine  workmanship,  and  it  is  so  deeply 
engraven  a  trait  of  the  image  of  God,  which 
reflects  itself  in  us,  that  to  leave  it  unstudied 
betokens  lack  of  reverence  and  wonder.  It  is, 
moreover,  so  mighty  a  tool  that  the  thoughtless 
use  of  it  readily  does  harm. 

We  must  also  distinguish  between  times  and 
times.  There  is  a  time  of  childhood  followed  by 
that  of  early  youth,  when  we  live  by  instinct,  and 
are  not  able  to  give  a  reason  for  the  acts  of  the 
will.  But  then  there  comes  a  time  when  the 
troubled  waters  settle,  and  the  mirror  of  the  con- 
sciousness becomes  clear,  and  we  begin  to  think. 
Our  age  is  farther  advanced  than  that  of  our 
fathers,  because  it  is  older.  Earlier  instinctive 
life  gradually  becomes  a  conscious  life.    He  who 

160 


takes  no  part  in  this  transition  is  left  in  the  rear. 

The  whole  church  will  understand  that  she 
loses  power  when  she  adheres  to  the  old,  without 
harmonizing  her  insight  into  the  past  with  the 
claims  of  our  clarified  consciousness.  She  then 
loses  her  touch  upon  life.  Her  preaching  does 
not  join  itself  to  what  stirs  and  moves  in  the 
world.  She  does  not  equip  the  faithful  with 
needed  armor,  and  becomes  herself  the  cause, 
that  in  ever  weaker  positions  in  the  conflict  of 
spirits  she  is  incapacitated.  Confess,  in  times 
such  as  these,  when  in  every  way  the  will  has 
become  the  object  of  investigation  and  thought, 
will  it  do  for  Christians  to  act  as  though  the 
knowledge  of  the  will  did  not  concern  them? 

Here  we  confine  ourselves  to  our  subject.  It 
is  the  aim  of  these  meditations  to  bring  the  soul 
into  secret  fellowship  with  God.  This  requires 
knowledge  of  God,  even  that  knowledge  which  is 
itself  eternal  life.  In  that  knowledge  of  God 
we  must  increase.  And  this  increase  is  more  pos- 
sible through  the  will  than  through  the  under- 
standing. This  is  the  point  which  we  emphasize. 
The  holy  apostle  expresses  it  so  clearly:  ''Walk 
worthy  of  the  Lord  unto  all  pleasing,  whereby 
we  shall  be  fruitful  in  every  good  work,  and  at 
the  same  time  increase  in  the  knowledge  of 
God"  (Col.  1:10), 

He  who  bends  his  will  so  that  at  length  he  has 
no  other  will  than  to  forgive  his  debtor,  comes 
through  his  own  will  to  the  knowledge  of  the 
compassionate  God  who  forgives  him.  To  God 
forgiveness  is  no  outward  rule,  which  he  applies. 
To  forgive  proceeds  from  his  will.  And  this  will 
to  forgive  proceeds  from  his  Being.    If  we  come 

161 


to  will  like  this  of  ourselves,  we  become  con- 
formed to  our  Father  who  is  in  heaven.  The 
words  of  Jesus:  Be  ye  perfect,  as  your  Father 
who  is  in  heaven  is  perfect,  are  then  realized  in 
us;  they  are  realized  in  this  particular;  and  con- 
scious that  we  are  of  the  family  of  God  we 
come  to  this  knowledge  of  God,  which  is  not  a 
lesson  learned  by  rote,  but  which  proceeds  from 
our  divine  relationship  itself.  Do  we  understand 
the  beauty  and  godliness  of  this? 

All  men  are  not  alike  either  in  mental  capacity 
or  in  the  disposal  of  time.  Some  are  able  to 
analyze  all  things  and  to  study  them  out  deeply 
and  accurately.  But  more  by  far  can  not  do 
this.  We  would  not  call  them  stupid  for  this 
reason,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  few  people  can 
make  exhaustive  studies  of  every  part  of  our 
glorious  confession.  They  simply  can  not  do  it. 
They  have  not  the  ability.  Freedom  of  time  also 
differs  greatly  in  given  circumstances.  The  day- 
laborer,  who  is  away  from  home  from  morning 
until  night  has  little  or  no  time'  for  the  study 
of  sacred  things,  especially  as  compared  with  the 
clergy  or  professors  of  Theolog>%  who  can  devote 
all  day  to  it.  And  apart  from  time,  opportunities 
differ  widely.  Such  study  requires  education, 
books  and  retirement.  And  see  the  difference 
between  a  farm-hand  at  the  plow  and  a  university 
trained  clergyman  in  his  study,  who  is  well  sup- 
plied with  books. 

If  we  take  the  knowledge  of  God  as  consisting 
mainly  of  book  knowledge;  if  we  say  that  the 
knowledge  of  God  obtained  in  this  way  is  eternal 
life,  are  wc  not  cruel?     For  does  not  this  imply 

162 


that  eternal  life  is  a  right  that  belongs  to  the 
man  of  study,  and  not  to  the  swain  who  follows 
sheep?  And  we  know  this  can  Dot  be  true.  Tf 
the  knowledge  of  God  is  eternal  life,  the  increase 
in  this  knowledge  must  be  for  sale  for  something 
which  is  at  every  one's  disposal,  the  professor  in 
his  study,  the  day-laborer  at  his  work,  the  busy 
mother  in  her  home.  This  brings  us  of  itself  to 
the  will.  Intellectual  attainment  is  not  enough. 
Many  students  of  great  learning  appear  to  have 
no  knowledge  of  God  at  all,  while  many  hard- 
working plain  souls  exhale  the  fragrance  of  eternal 
life. 

Here  we  touch  the  sensitive  nerve  of  life  itself. 
In  every  person  operates  a  will.  It  comes  into 
action  every  day.  The  will  is  in  all  and  is  active 
in  everything.  The  working,  the  action,  the  power 
of  the  will,  its  impulse  and  passion  may  differ 
widely,  but  without  will  there  is  no  action,  no 
deed,  no  career  in  life.  Every  difference  between 
man  and  man  here  falls  away.  Every  one  faces 
it  daily  for  himself.  In  whatever  high  or  low 
position  one  finds  himself,  there  is  a  will  that 
wills,  a  will  that  operates.  It  proceeds  in  a  quiet 
and  peaceful  way.  It  is  not  something  apart 
that  is  added  to  life.  It  is  the  urgency  of  life 
itself  that  beats  and  throbs  in  every  artery. 
Softly,  by  the  side  of  very  quiet  waters,  this 
action  of  the  will  continues  all  day  long  through- 
out life.  It  is  a  never  resting,  but  an  ever  newly- 
fed  stream  of  choice  of  will,  decision  of  will, 
action  of  will,  continually,  quietly  rippling  along, 
bearing  life  company  and  partly  carrying  it. 
Thus  by  these  utterances  of  the  will  it  is  in  the 
power  of  every  one  to  continuously  increase  in 

163 


the  knowledge  of  God,  and  thereby  to  obtain  ever 
larger  possession  and  fuller  enjoyment  of  eternal 
life,  provided  we  separate  this  utterance  of  the 
will  less  and  less  from  the  will  of  God  and  derive 
it  more  and  more  from  the  will  of  God.  Thus 
every  idea  of  cruelty  falls  away.  Whether  life  is 
limited  or  large,  makes  no  difference.  Even 
though  it  wears  on  like  the  quiet  flow  of  a  gentle 
stream,  every  day  the  knowledge  of  God  can  be 
enriched  by  it,  and  we  can  increase  in  everlasting 
life;  a  queen  on  her  throne  as  well  as  the  farm- 
hand behind  the  plow,  a  professor  in  his  study 
who  is  no  better  than  he  who  moves  the  shuttle 
in  the  loom. 

This  goes  softly,  as  by  the  side  of  very  still 
waters,  and  the  glory  of  it  is  that  it  asks  for  no 
extra  time  outside  of  the  daily  life.  Every  kind 
of  learning  demands  special  time.  The  daily  task 
is  broken  up  for  it.  Special  time  must  be  set 
apart  for  it.  On  the  part  of  many  people  this 
is  almost  impossible.  For  most  people's  life  is 
a  mill  which  never  stops.  But  even  this  is  no 
drawback  to  the  knowledge  of  God  through  "the 
willing  of  the  will."  For  the  will  never  operates 
outside  of,  but  always  in  the  life.  Whether, 
therefore,  you  walk  behind  a  plow,  or  stand 
behind  the  school-desk,  or  care  for  your  children 
at  home,  or  nurse  the  sick,  it  is  all  the  same.  It 
is  all  utterance  and  activity  of  will.  And  pro- 
vided we  do  not  oppose  our  will  to  the  will  of 
God,  and  do  not  diverge  from  it,  but  bend  our 
will  after  God's  will,  it  is  all  one  process  of 
activity,  whereby  we  increase  in  the  knowledge  of 
God,  in  order  through  this  knowledge  to  mature 
in  eternal  life. 

164 


32 

'WHO  WORKETH  IN  YOU  TO  WILL." 

By  doing  willingly  what  God  wills  us  to  do, 
we  increase  in  the  knowledge  of  God;  not  in 
barren  book-knowledge,  but  in  living  soul-knowl- 
edge, which  is  itself  eternal  life.  This  springs 
from  all  sorts  of  causes,  but  not  least  from  the 
fact  that  our  willingness  is  not  born  from  us,  but 
is  wrought  in  us  by  God.  "He  it  is,  writes  the 
apostle,  who  worketh  in  you  both  to  will  and  to 
do  of  his  good  pleasure"  (Phil.  2:13).  Hence 
there  is  first  the  willing,  after  that  the  W9rking 
through  and  according  to  our  will,  and  while  we 
work  this  action  of  the  will  in  the  soul,  it  is  God 
who  worketh  it  in  us.  It  is  self-evident  that  in 
this  connection  this  last  distinction  must  be  made. 
Otherwise  our  willingness  would  merely  be  on 
the  surface,  and  the  child  of  God,  in  good  works, 
would  merely  be  a  puppet  moved  mechanically. 
This  distinction  should  be  clearly  understood. 
We  ourselves  will,  not  because  of  ourselves,  but 
because  God  so  worketh  in  us,  that  now  we  our- 
selves truly  and  actually  will  to  do  thus  and  not 
otherwise.  It  takes  some  pains  to  see  this  clearly, 
and  it  is  easy  to  follow  the  advice  not  to  con- 
cern ourselves  with  the  several  distinctions.  But 
when  we  lend  our  ear  to  this  advice  of  spiritual 
sloth,  we  do  ourselves  a  wrong. 

Ask  any  physician  how  many  distinctions  he 
makes  in  a  single  group  of  nerves,  or  how  many 
differences  he  observes  in  germs  of  disease  in  the 
blood.  And  will  it  do,  that  so  much  pains  are 
taken  in  behalf  of  the  body,  which  perishes,  and 
not  in  behalf  of  the  soul,  which  is  so  much  more 
precious?      But    this    tendency    prevails.      While 

165 


almost  every  one  has  some  sort  of  a  manuel, 
illustrated  if  possible,  from  which  to  learn  how 
the  body  is  constructed,  nothing  is  read  about 
the  soul.  By  far  the  larger  numbers  of  people 
do  not  investigate  it,  but  speak  at  random  about 
the  soul,  and  about  the  will,  and  the  understand- 
ing, and  everything  is  in  a  chaos,  and  so  most' 
people  continue  all  their  lives  strangers  to  their 
own  inner  selves.  Everything  else  can  be  described. 
One  is  familiar  with  his  house,  village  or  city, 
and  sometimes  also  with  foreign  lands.  But  the 
key  to  the  chambers  and  vaults  of  his  own  soul 
has  never  been  found.  And  since  lack  of  self- 
knowledge  is  punished  with  meagre  knowledge  of 
God,  one  deprives  himself  of  his  share  in  the 
eternal  life,  which  far  excels  all  things  else.  We 
therefore  urge  the  remembrance  of  the  distinc- 
tion that  has  been  made.  When  a  martyr  says: 
I  will  die  for  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  he 
must  himself  will  to  do  it.  It  must  be  his  own 
act.  But  that  he  himself  so  wills  it,  does  not  by 
nature  spring  from  himself.  It  is  wrought  in  him 
by  God. 

To  illustrate:  Bring  to  your  mind  a  ship.  It 
has  an  helm.  Attached  to  the  helm  is  the  tiller, 
and  this  is  held  in  the  hand  of  the  boatswain. 
If  at  sea  the  ship  moves  with  the  suction  of  wind 
and  waves,  without  being  directed,  every  time 
the  ship  turns  the  helm  turns,  and  with  it  the 
tiller,  and  with  the  tiller  the  hand  and  the  arm 
of  the  man.  This  is  the  image  of  a  man  without 
a  will.  He  is  adrift  on  the  sea  of  life.  As  the 
wind  and  waves  move,  so  moves  he,  subject  to 
the  currents  and  influences  from  within  and  from 
without,  of  inclinations  and  of  circumstances.    As 


life  moves  him  along,  so  he  goes,  and  so  turns 
the  rudder  in  his  inner  purpose,  and  the  tiller, 
and  the  hand  that  is  upon  it,  i.  e.,  his  will.  He 
■is  a  man  without  a  will.  This  is  altogether  dif- 
ferent when  there  is  direction  in  the  ship.  Then 
the  man  at  the  helm  directs  the  course.  He 
knows  where  he  wants  to  go.  And  when  wind 
and  waves  take  him  out  of  his  course,  he  resists 
them.  Then  the  hand  takes  firm  hold  on  the 
tiller,  turns  it,  and  with  it  the  helm,  directly 
against  wind  and  wave,  and  the  ship  that  obeys 
the  helm-  cuts  the  waves,  not  as  tide  and  wmd 
should  will,  but  as  the  helmsman  wills  it.  Such 
is  the  man  of  character,  the  man  of  will-percep- 
tion and  will-power,  who  does  not  drift,  but 
steers.  But  there  is  still  a  third.  On  the  bridge 
of  the  ship,  far  away  from  the  helm,  stands  the 
captain.  He  knows  the  intended  course,  and  as 
on  the  bridge  he  stands  much  higher,  he  can  see 
far  better  whether  the  ship  should  turn  to  the 
right  or  to  the  left.  Then  all  the  man  at  the  helm 
has  to  do  is  to  listen  for  orders  from  the  captain 
on  the  bridge  and  to  obey  them. 

Apphed  to  the  soul,  God  is  the  captain  on  the 
bridge,  and  the  man  at  the  helm  is  ourselves. 
When  with  the  tiller  of  he  boat  of  our  soul  in 
hand  we  but  will  what  God  wills,  and  turn  the 
helm  to  the  right  or  to  the  left  as  God  orders, 
then  there  is  no  danger  to  be  feared,  and  pres- 
ently through  wind  and  waves,  the  boat  safely 
reaches  port.  If  this  goes  on  for  life,  we  become 
accustomed  to  it;  in  the  end  we  learn  to  know 
ahead  whether  the  captain  on  the  bridge  shall 
order  right  or  left;  we  come  to  know  God's  will 
more  and  more  as  of  ourselves ;  and  so  the  knowl- 


edge  of  God  brings  us  nearer  to  the  haven  of  sal- 
vation, i.  e.,  to  eternal  life. 

From  the  illustration  we  come  back  to  the 
matter  itself.  When  God  so  works  in  us  that  at 
length  we  ourselves  will  what  God  wills,  the 
process  is  not  outward  but  inward.  It  is  not  that 
we  are  here  on  earth  below,  and  that  far  away 
from  us,  and  seated  high  above  us  in  the  heavens, 
from  immeasurable  distances  God  imparts  a 
mechanical  impulse  to  us.  Far  from  it.  God 
enters  our  inmost  selves. 

To  a  certain  extent  this  is  even  the  case  with 
the  captain  on  the  bridge  who  calls  to  the  mate 
at  the  helm.  For  what  is  it  to  call?  He  who 
calls  makes  air-waves  to  vibrate  and  these  vibra- 
tions extend  themselves  to  the  spot  where  the 
man  stands  at  the  helm.  Thus  the  vibrating  air- 
waves enter  the  ear  of  the  mate,  touch  his 
auditory-nerve,  which  communicates  the  motion 
to  his  soul.  Hence  there  is  a  direct,  continuous 
movement,  which  from  the  captain  penetrates  into 
the  soul  of  the  mate.  Thus  the  illustration  covers 
the  ground. 

But  with  the  case  in  hand  it  is  yet  stronger. 
When  God  worketh  in  us  he  is  the  omnipresent 
One,  who  is  both  high  in  heaven  and  close  at 
hand.  Even  "close  at  hand"  is  still  too  weak  a 
statement,  for  God  is  in  every  one  of  us.  There 
is  no  part  in  our  being  where  God  is  not  omni- 
present. This  is  the  case  with  all  men.  But  when 
God  deals  with  one  of  his  children,  this  inward 
presence  is  much  closer  and  more  personal,  for 
God  dwells  in  such  an  one  by  his  Holy  Spirit, 
If  we  believe  that  the  Holy  Spirit  is  himself 
God,  we  understand  that  God  himself  tabernacles 

168  - 


in  his  child,  that  he  has  his  throne  in  the 
inmost  recess  of  the  child's  soul,  and  thus  has 
fellowship  with  him,  not  from  afar,  but  in  the 
sanctuary  of  his  own  person.  There  God  worketh 
upon  us  by  day  and  by  night,  even  when  we  are 
not  conscious  of  it.  He  is  our  Sculptor,  who* 
carves  in  us  the  image  of  himself,  and  makes  us 
more  and  more  to  resemble  his  own  Being.  Thus 
he  transforms  us,  and  also  the  willing  in  us.  It 
is  God  who  worketh  in  us,  not  only  our  emotions, 
but  also  our  willing,  by  transforming  "the  self 
that  wills." 

When  we  understand  it  this  way,  it  is  plain 
that  there  is  a  constant  holy  entering  in  of  God's 
will  into  our  will,  thanks  to  this  purifying  and 
refining  and  transposing  of  our  inmost  selves. 
This  work  goes  on  in  us  mostly  unobserved  and 
unperceived,  so  tenderly  and  gently  does  God's 
hand  direct  the  task.  But  not  always  just  like 
this.  Sometimes  the  sculptor  must  forcibly  strike 
off  a  piece  from  the  marble,  so  that  it  crashes 
and  sphnters  as  it  falls.  These  are  our  times  of 
violent  inward  struggles,  when  everything  within 
us  quakes  with  the  reverberations  of  moral  shocks. 
But  whether  it  be  gentle  or  whether  it  be  violent, 
it  is  ever  the  process  of  sculpturing.  And  the 
sculptor  works  not  after  a  model  that  stands 
before  him,  but  is  himself  the  model.  He  forms 
us  after  his  own  image. 

This  Divine  labor  in  the  realm  of  our  will 
brings  us  ever  into  closer  resemblance  to  the 
image  of  God.  And  to  be  more  and  more  trans- 
formed after  the  image  of  God  only  means  that 
God's  will  ever  more  deeply  enters  into  om-  will, 
which  in  turn  means  an  ever  better  understand- 

169 


ing  of  God,  a  better  knowledge  of  him,  and  an 
ever  clearer  insight  into  his  will  and  purpose. 
Thus  we  see  that  there  is  still  another  way  of 
learning  to  know  God  than  learning  about  him 
from  books  or  sermons. 

*  Further  on  we  will  try  to  show  that  this  knowl- 
edge of  God  from  books  and  sermons  is  also 
indispensable,  but  we  pass  it  by  for  the  present. 
It  is  eminently  necessary  that  eyes  that  are  now 
closed  against  seeing  God's  work  in  the  inner 
life  of  the  soul  shall  open  to  see  this  glorious 
work.  Without  an  understanding  of  the  reality 
of  the  life  of  the  soul,  and  of  God's  work  therein, 
there  is  neither  power  nor  outpouring  of  the 
same,  nor  fruit  of  that  power  in  the  life.  In  that 
case  the  Church  is  dead.  It  only  echoes  sounds 
when  it  thinks  that  it  sings  Psalms  of  praise 
unto  God.  Then  the  world  pushes  the  Church 
to  a  side,  and  not  the  Church  the  world.  All 
attention  therefore  must  be  centered  on  the  will, 
on  the  willingness,  on  the  self  that  wills,  and 
upon  God  who  in  the  self  works  the  willing. 

The  poet  in  his  songs  prayed  for  feeling, 
imagination  and  heroic  courage.  For  feeling,  will- 
power and  heroic  courage  let  every  child  of  God 
supplicate  the  Father. 


"WHAT  I  WOULD,  THAT  DO  I  NOT." 

The  distance  that  separates  the  noblest  and 
mightiest  man  on  earth  from  God  is  immeasur- 
ably great.  We  fully  understand  that  it  can 
make  us  exclaim  almost  despairingly:  "Why 
should  we  seek  after  knowledge  of  God?    Behold, 

170 


God  is  great,  and  we  know  him  not.  The  most 
we  can  do  is  to  kneel  in  worship  before  the 
unknown  God." 

This  is  what  the  doubters  meant,  who  at 
Athens  had  reared  an  altar  to  the  "Unknown 
God."  They  did  not  mean  that  besides  the  many- 
gods,  whose  altars  had  been  reared,  there  was 
still  another  God,  whose  name  they  did  not  know 
and  to  whom  they  brought  their  offerings  as  to 
an  unknown  god.  No,  that  altar  to  the  unknown 
God  stood  for  a  system  and  a  viewpoint.  By 
that  altar  they  meant  to  say,  ''Our  fellow- 
citizens  in  Athens,  who  kneel  before  Minerva  or 
Jupiter  are  mistaken  when  they  accept  the 
stories  about  the  gods.  All  that  is  said  to  be 
known  of  God  is  founded  upon  self-deception. 
Of  the  Infinite  himself  nothing  can  be  known. 
There  is  an  Infinite  One,  or  at  least  there  is 
something  Infinite.  Who  or  what  it  is,  is  an 
impenetrable  mystery.  Worship  this  Infinite  as 
the  great  Unknown.  Do  it  with  the  confession  of 
ignorance.  Candidly  confess  that  all  knowledge 
of  God  is  withheld.  And  then  mysticism  will 
work  wholesome  effects.  But  let  us  not  confess 
to  have  what  we  have  not.  Let  us  not  pretend 
that  we  are  introduced  and  initiated  into  the 
knowledge  of  God.  For  this  is  self-deception. 
It  will  only  deceive  others  and  is  the  key  to 
priest-craft. 

This  was  the  thought  of  that  small  group  of 
men  in  Athens.  And  among  the  ablest  and 
noblest  of  our  race  there  are  many  who  think 
so  now.  From  choice  they  call  themselves 
"Agnostics,"  Their  aim  and  purpose  is  to  have 
it  imderstood  that  they  are  by  no  means  godless, 


and  least  of  all  that  they  are  irreligious;  that 
indeed  they  are  most  religious  and  that  therefore 
with  deep  humility  they  are  frank  to  confess,  that 
the  God  whom  we  worship  is  One  who  by  his 
Supreme  Majesty  withholds  his  knowledge  from 
men. 

However  devout  this  may  seem,  their  viewpoint 
is  essentially  untenable.  It  is  diametrically 
opposed  to  Christian  doctrine.  What  Paul 
declared  to  the  Athenians:  "That  God,  whom  ye 
ignorantly  worship,  him  declare  we  unto  you," 
remains  unchangeably  the  confession  which  we 
hold  in  the  face  of  these  misguided  people. 
Surely,  had  not  God  revealed  himself,  no  one  of 
us  would  have  known  him.  But  God  has  made 
a  revelation  of  himself.  This  is  the  glad  tiding 
which  every  true  Christian  makes  known  in  the 
world.  Wherefore  in  the  face  of  this  seemingly 
pious  not-knowing  of  the  Agnostics,  we  boldly 
maintain  the  word  of  Christ:  This  is  eternal 
life,  that  they  might  know  thee,  the  Only  true 
God. 

There  is  also  excess  on  the  other  side.  There 
are  ministers  and  laymen  who  talk  so  familiarly 
about  God,  without  reserve  or  constraint,  and 
who  speak  to  him  in  prayer  so  irreverently  as  to 
arouse  aversion.  These  are  men  and  women  who 
have  no  actual  fear  of  God  in  their  heart,  who 
think  that  they  know  well-nigh  everything  about 
the  Most  Highest,  and  who  do  not  even  faintly 
perceive  that  all  our  speaking  about  the  Eternal, 
:  nd  all  our  speakina;  to  him.  is  nothing  more 
than  stammering.  Love  truly  casts  out  fear. 
But    fear    must    be    there    first,    and    love    must 

172 


struggle  against  it.  In  this  way  only  the  victory 
is  gained  of  the  child-like  Abba  Father. 

When  God  is  spoken  of  in  a  way  which  shows 
that  there  has  been  no  fear  of  God,  nor  love  to 
cast  it  out;  that  there  has  been  no  struggle  and 
consequently  no  triumph,  there  is  no  child-like 
Abba,  dear  Father,  but  a  pedantic  show  and  pre- 
tense of  knowledge,  which  exhales  no  fragrance  of 
piety,  but  rather  destroys  the  germ  of  vital 
godliness.  To  avert  this  it  is  needful  that  our 
knowledge  of  God  is  properly  related  to  our 
whole  inner  self,  to  our  creation  after  God's 
image,  to  our  childship  in  the  family  of  God, 
and  especially  to  our  will  and  purpose.  Purely 
intellectual  knowledge  of  God  is  a  frozen  criLst 
of  ice  from  under  which  the  stream  has  run  dry. 

Another  distinction  must  be  observed.  There 
are  two  kinds  of  willingness.  One  just  remains 
what  it  is,  the  other  is  translated  into  doing.  In 
our  days  the  inclination  is  strong  to  attribute  an 
inner  excellence  to  the  willingness  that  expresses 
itself  in  doing.  There  is  something  bold  and 
almost  brutal  in  the  will-life  of  our  times.  All 
one  needs  is  to  will.  He  who  wills  must  dare. 
Then  let  come  what  will.  In  every  case  the  will 
must  express  a  power  that  can  do  everything. 
''Where  there  is  a  will  there  is  a  way."  And 
under  the  lead  of  such  men  as  Ibsen  and  others, 
this  will-effort  has  been  driven  so  onesidedly, 
that  in  their  effort  irresistibly  to  carry  out  their 
own  will  many  pride  themselves  on  their  indif- 
ference to  opposition. 

Compared  with  these  present-day  heroes  of  the 
will,  a  weakling  like  St.  Paul  cuts  a  very  poor 
figure.     He  candidly  declares  that  he  has  known 

173 


moments  in  his  life  when  he  had  to  confess: 
"What  I  would,  that  do  I  not;  but  what  I  hate, 
that  I  do"  (Rom.  7:15).  This  is  an  honest  con- 
fession, which  age  upon  age  has  been  shamefully 
abused,  that  under  the  cloak  of  piety  one  might 
continue  in  sin  and  keep  the  conscience  quiet. 
An  abuse  which  shall  be  judged  of  God.  But 
apart  from  this  abuse  the  language  of  St.  Paul 
is  the  honest  description  of  actual  life,  which 
declares  that  the  ideal  always  stands  above  us, 
and  that  we  always  have  to  mourn  our  inability 
to  reach  it,  and  to  make  't  actual  in  life. 

There  is  willingness  of  heart,  and  an  effort  to 
realize  it  in  life.  This  willingness  of  heart  is  for 
the  most  part  free.  He  who  restrains  evil  ten- 
dencies and  conforms  his  will  to  the  will  of  God, 
fosters  an  holy  aim.  This  involves  conflict,  but 
only  in  connection  with  the  remnant  of  the  old 
nature  that  is  in  us.  As  long  as  we  stand  aloof 
from  life,  and  take  council  with  our  heart,  a 
child  of  God  will  inwardly  triumph,  and  finally 
he  will  come  to  will  only  what  God  wills,  and 
find  happiness  in  this  harmony  of  his  will  with 
the  will  of  God. 

Now,  however,  follows  a  still  greater  difficulty. 
And  that  is:  to  carry  into  effect  what  we  will  at 
heart,  against  the  world,  the  flesh  and  the  Devil. 
In  connection  with  this  it  continually  happens 
that  with  the  best  will  of  the  heart  we  meet  with 
stubborn  resistance;  that  we  find  no  power  in 
ourselves  to  cope  with  it;  and  that  in  the  end  we 
leave  undone  what  we  honestly  meant  to  do  and 
still  want  to  do.  This  tempts  us  all  too  often 
to  underestimate  this  inner  willingness  of  heart. 
What  is  the  good,  we  ask,  whether  we  foster  the 

174 


best  of  intentions  and  cherish  holiest  purposes, 
when  at  the  time  of  trial  we  are  bound  to  fail? 
And  this  mood  must  be  resisted.  This  is  debase- 
ment of  self.  It  not  only  unfits  one  for  the 
battle  of  life,  but  severs  the  vital  nerve  which 
binds  one  to  his  Divme  ideal.  Better  faint  ten 
times  and  suffer  the  punishment  of  God's  judg- 
ment in  the  conscience  than  to  have  part  with 
the  world  in  everyday  sin  without  an  accusing 
conscience. 

This  inner  willingness  of  heart  to  will  what 
God  wills  has  supreme  worth,  even  though  as  yet 
strength  fails  to  carry  it  into  effect.  For  it  is  the 
development  of  the  life  of  God's  child.  It  is 
coming  into  closer  fellowship  with  God.  It  is 
the  increase  in  the  knowledge  of  God.  It  is  a 
discipline  which  keeps  the  conscience  tender,  and 
the  ideal  bright,  and  makes  progress  in  the  way. 

Of  course  the  progress  is  greater  when  willing- 
ness of  heart  is  carried  out  in  the  deed,  until  it 
becomes  a  part  of  life.  For  then  the  moral  power 
of  faith  operates,  the  nature  of  the  hero  awakens 
and  the  power  of  the  Almighty,  which  overcomes 
the  world,  becomes  manifest  in  us.  But  it  does 
not  begin  with  this.  It  begins  with  the  transpos- 
ing of  the  willingness  in  the  heart.  This  is  fol- 
lowed by  the  sad  and  painful  experience  that  the 
willingness  is  there,  but  that  the  doing  still 
tarries.  In  that  stadium  the  strong  and  pene- 
trating working  of  the  conscience  performs 
wonders,  for  it  brings  us  at  length  into  the  final 
stadium,  v.here  from  bare  willingness  what  God 
wills  we  are  brought  to  the  doing  of  his  good 
pleasure. 


34 

"NOT  AS  I  WILL." 

In  the  "Our  Father,"  and  in  Gethsemane,  it 
is  each  time  the  same  prayer:  "Thy  will  be 
done."  But  though  the  emphasis  and  the  words 
are  alike  both  times,  the  meaning  is  different. 
In  the  "Our  Father"  "Thy  will  be  done"  means: 
"Thy  will,  O  God,  be  done  by  me."  In  Geth- 
semane it  means:  "Let  thy  will,  O  God,  come 
upon  me.  Let  come  to  me  what  may,  not  as  I 
will,  but  as  thou  wilt"  (Matt.  26:39).  The  latter 
prayer  brings  a  large  part  of  the  knowledge  of 
God  which  is  eternal  life.  We  increase  in  this 
knowledge  when  our  will  conforms  itself  to  the 
will  of  God,  so  that  we  think,  speak  and  act  in 
perfect  harmony  with  his  ordinances.  Thus  we 
grow  in  the  knowledge  of  God,  because  his  will 
then  enters  into  us,  whereby  our  will  is  trans- 
formed, and  conformity  to  the  Image  of  God 
becomes  ever  more  apparent. 

But  there  is  another  increase  in  the  knowledge 
of  God  which  comes  to  us  when  we  are  willing  to 
suffer  what  God  allows  to  come  upon  us,  when 
we  adapt  ourselves  to  what  in  his  council  he 
has  appointed  in  our  behalf,  and  when  we  accept 
the  things  that  come  to  us  therein  not  merely 
without  murmuring  and  complaint,  but  with 
heroic  faith.  This  increase  in  the  knowledge  of 
God  progresses  differently  and  along  lines  of  a 
far  more  painful  discipline.  The  stress  consists 
in  this:  That,  accepting  the  will  of  God  in  our 
lot,  we  bear  it  passively.  When  "Thy  will  be 
done"  means:  "Let  me  fulfill  thy  will  as  the 
176 


angels  fulfil  it  in  heaven/'  it  stimulates  our  energy, 
St  r?^  up  the  will,  and  when  we  overcome  sin  the 
heart  overflows  with  the  feeling  of  supreme  joy. 
But  when  "Thy  will  be  done"  means :  "Let  things 
occur  not  as  I  desire,  but  in  keeping  with  thy 
plan,"  there  is  need  of  submission  and  resignation 
that  we  might  endure  what  God  appoints  and 
allows.  In  the  lower  school  of  suffering  at  least 
there  is  no  development  of  energy  at  such  a  time, 
but  inward  enervation;  no  stimuli  to  spur  the 
will,  but  cords  that  tightly  bind  it;  no  smile  of 
courageous  heroism,  but  the  tear  of  poignant 
sorrow.  It  leads  to  deeper  knowledge  of  God, 
but  as  a  rule  in  a  far  more  trying  way,  through 
dark  mazes  of  many  unknown  and  unsolvable 
riddles.  Problems  that  try  one's  mettle  to  the 
uttermost,  when  it  comes  not  merely  to  momen- 
tary suffering  of  pain,  but  to  the  endurance  of  a 
bitter  lot,  which  begins  early  in  life  and  ends 
only  with  the  grave. 

This  frequently  happens  in  life.  Here  is  a 
woman  who  was  a  happy  wife.  Husband  and 
child  were  her  daily  delight.  She  was  not  irre- 
ligious. Heartfelt  gladness  found  frequent  expres- 
sion in  thanksgivings  and  praise.  "The  love  of 
the  Heavenly  Father  was  great.  He  made  her 
happy  and  glad."  But  circumstances  changed. 
Great  illness  broke  in  upon  her  peace.  Husband 
and  child  were  snatched  away  by  death.  And 
now  that  everything  is  gone  she  can  not  be  com- 
forted. The  grieved  and  deeply-wounded  soul 
rises  up  in  rebellion  against  God.  It  has  all  been 
self-deception.  She  feels  that  in  every  way  she 
has  been  misled.     God  can  not  be  love.     How 

177 


could  a  loving  God  cruelly  cast  her  down  from 
the  heights  of  her  great  happiness  into  the  depths 
of  bereavement  and  woe?  In  perplexity  of  grief 
her  language  becomes  that  of  despair  and  of 
defiant  unbelief.  "Speak  no  more  of  God  to  me. 
Cruelty  can  not  be  love.  There  is  no  God." 
And  so  the  break  of  happiness  in  life  becomes 
the  break  of  faith  on  God.  She  thought  that  she 
knew  the  Lord.  Now  that  he  shows  himself  in 
a  different  way  from  what  she  had  imagined  she 
abandons  all  she  ever  believed.  With  husband 
and  child  she  also  lost  her  God.  And  nothing 
is  left  in  the  soul  but  the  burned-out  hearth 
where  the  last  spark  has  been  extinguished. 

This  shows  how  hard  in  the  school  of  suffering 
the  lesson  is  by  which  we  increase  m  the  knowl- 
edge of  God.  When  for  the  first  time  in  life  the 
full  weight  of  the  cross  is  laid  upon  the  shoulders, 
the  first  effect  is  the  opposite  from  that  for  which 
it  was  imposed.  It  makes  us  numb  and  indif- 
ferent, and  all  knowledge  of  God  is  lost.  The 
hymn  of  love  was  so  beautiful.  It  sang  itself  as 
it  were  in  the  soul.  A  God  who  is  nothing  but 
love,  who  blesses  and  enriches  our  life  and  makes 
it  glad,  who  would  not  treasure  such  knowledge 
of  God.  It  is  pleasing  to  us  when  love  is 
shown,  and  nothing  but  love.  How  blessed  and 
rich  is  the  heart  with  a  God  who  makes  only 
streams  of  love,  happiness  and  peace  to  flow  out 
towards  us. 

But  the  day  of  adversity  dawns,  the  day  of 
trouble  and  disappointment,  the  day  of  sickness 
and  bitter  grief.  "Where  now  is  the  love  of  my 
God?   Where  the  outflow  of  love  from  the  Father- 


heart?  Not  only  has  he  not  saved  me  my  dying 
husband  and  child,  and  left  me  praying  without 
coming  to  my  aid,  but  he  has  brought  these 
sorrows  upon  me.  He  sent  illness  into  my  home, 
and  0,  it  is  almost  too  cruel  for  words,  he  has 
torn  my  husband  from  my  heart  and  has  killed 
my  darling  child."  In  the  end  this  will  lead  to 
another  and  a  better  knowledge  of  God,  which 
will  make  his  doings  plain.  But  the  first  feel- 
ing of  the  heart  is,  that  with  God,  as  we  imag- 
ine and  dream  him  to  be,  we  can  not  get 
along.  We  lose  the  God  we  had,  and  it  takes 
many  bitter  conflicts  of  soul  before,  purified  in 
our  knowled<2;e  of  the  true  God,  we  embrace  him 
in  place  of  the  other. 

Thus  the  first  lesson  is,  that  in  everyday  life 
we  learn  to  submit  to  an  higher  appointment 
and  bow  before  an  Omnipotence  against  which 
we  can  do  nothing.  This  seems  dreadful.  But 
it  is  the  discovery  in  actual  life  of  God  as  God. 
When  we  have  but  just  come  into  the  way  that 
leads  to  the  cross,  we  take  ourselves  as  the  main 
object  of  interest.  It  is  our  happiness,  our  honor, 
our  future,  and  God  is  added  in.  We  look  on  our- 
selves as  the  center  of  things,  and  God  comes  in 
to  make  us  happy.  The  father  is  for  the  sake  of 
the  child.  And  the  Almightiness  which  is  con- 
fessed is  but  to  serve  our  interests. 

This  knowledge  of  God  is  faulty  through  and 
through.  It  turns  around  the  order  of  things.  In 
all  seriousness  it  makes  self  God  and  God  our 
servant.  This  false  knowledge  of  God  is  entirely 
overthrown  by  the  cross.  Cast  down  in  grief  and 
sorrow  we  suddenly  perceive  that  this  great  God 

179 


does  not  concern  himself  with,  lis;  that  he  does 
not  apportion  or  regulate  the  course  of  things 
according  to  our  desire;  that  there  are  different 
motives  in  his  plan,  which  have  nothing  to  do 
with  our  wishes;  that  if  necessary  his  Might 
crushes  us  on  the  spot;  and  that  in  the  working 
of  the  plan  and  of  the  might  we  are  nothing 
else,  and  nothing  more,  than  particles  of  dust 
that  cleave  to  the  wheel,  and  withered  leaves 
that  are  driven  before  the  wind.  Hence  we  must 
submit.  We  must  bend.  We  are  utterly  impotent 
before  it.  And  from  the  heavens  in  which  we 
beheld  thus  far  only  the  play  of  light  and  clouds, 
darkness  descends  upon  the  soul,  thunder-claps 
reverberate  in  the  heart,  and  flashing  lightnings 
fill  us  with  dismay.  This  is  the  discovery  of  the 
reality  of  God,  of  his  overwhelming  Majesty,  of 
an  Almightiness  that  absorbs  everything  we  call 
our  own.  And  for  the  first  time  we  realize  what 
it  is  to  have  to  do  with  the  living  God.  For 
such  is  God.    Now  we  know  him. 

And  now  begins  the  new  effort  of  the  soul  to 
learn  to  understand  this  true  God  whom  we  have 
come  to  know  in  this  way.  Then  we  begin  to 
wonder,  to  query  and  to  ponder  why  Almighty 
God  doeth  thus  and  so.  Then  the  troubled  heart 
seeks  an  explanation.  It  looks  for  it  in  its  own 
guilt  and  sin,  in  the  after-effects  of  the  past,  in 
the  purpose  for  which  the  cross  was  laid  upon 
us,  and  in  the  fruit  which  it  shall  bear  in  the 
unravelling  of  eternity.  For  long  times  it  is 
always  the  effort  to  find  the  explanation  of  God's 
doings  in  ourselves.  Until  the  soul  makes  further 
progress  and  abandons  the  theory  of  Job's  friends, 

180 


and  like  Job  out  of  the  whirlwind  receives  the 
answer  from  God  himself,  and  now  learns  to 
understand  that  the  government  of  God  covers  all 
suns  and  stars,  all  hours  and  centuries,  and  causes 
every  creature  to  revolve  itself  about  him,  the 
Eternal,  as  the  one  and  only  center,  for  the  sake 
of  his  majesty  and  honor;  that  therefore  his 
council  and  plan  are  as  high  as  heaven,  and  far 
exceed  our  compreheL  ion;  and  that  not  the 
verification  of  his  Council,  but  the  entering  into 
the  life  of  it,  whether  through  joy  or  whether 
through  sorrow,  is  the  honor  and  self-exaltation 
of  the  soul. 

This  breaks  the  passiveness  which  made  us 
numb,  and  awakens  again  the  impulse  to  will- 
ingly drink  the  cup;  to  drink  it  with  heroic  cour- 
age and  not  allow  it  to  be  forced  upon  us.  To 
will  to  drink  it  even  as  Jesus  willed  to  die  on 
Golgotha;  with  a  broken  heart  to  co-operate  in 
the  work  of  God,  and  in  this  passive  co-operation 
with  God,  who  slays  us,  to  find  eternal  life.  It 
is  even  as  the  sentinel  who  lets  himself  be  shot 
down  at  his  post,  and  in  dying  receives  the  look 
of  approval  from  his  general,  which  exalts  him, 
because  he  knows,  and  now  understands,  that  he 
who  exposed  him  to  death,  yet  loved  him. 

35 

"I  LOVE." 

At  times  there  is  something  so  overpowering, 
extravagant  and  unreasonable  in  the  early  love  of 
a  youth  for  the  maiden  of  his  choice,  and  of  the 

181 


maiden  for  the  elect  of  her  heart,  that  we  feel 
that  there  is  a  mysterious,  inexplicable  power  at 
play.  This  is  not  always  so  with  those  who  are 
betrothed.  Eccentric  tension  of  the  mystery  of 
love  is  rather  the  exception.  Neither  should  this 
doting,  intoxicating  love  be  associated  with 
sensual  inclinations  or  voluptuous  desire.  'The 
ecstacy  of  love"  in  question  here  only  shows  itself 
with  those  who  are  in  love,  and  while  it  pervades 
the  soul  and  body  both,  even  in  our  sinful  state, 
it*  can  well  be  free  from  sensual  propensities. 

When  this  rapture  is  equally  warm  and  true  on 
both  sides,  the  w^orld  hears  nothing  of  it.  Near 
families  and  friends  alone  are  in  the  secret. 
Frequently,  however,  it  reveals  itself  in  a  tragic 
manner,  as  when  the  young  maiden  discovers 
that  her  ardent  love  finds  no  equally  ardent 
response  in  the  heart  of  her  lover.  Scarcely  a 
day  passes  that  the  papers  do  not  report  the  case 
of  some  girl,  in  the  home-town  or  abroad,  who 
was  betrothed  and  passionately  in  love,  and  who 
upon  discovering  that  her  lover  was  untrue  to 
her,  found  life  itself  too  heavy  a  load  to  carry, 
and  preferring  death  to  life  sought  it  in  suicide. 

''Ecstacy  of  love"  is  a  high-strung  degree  of 
affection  which  takes  the  person  whom  it  masters 
out  of  his  normal  self  and  transports  him  into  an 
excited  state  of  mind,  which  though  it  is  not 
insanity,  shows  signs  that  are  similar  to  it.  There- 
fore we  began  by  saying  that  it  is  outside  of 
reason.  One  who  is  in  this  state  of  ecstacy  can 
not  be  advised  nor  reasoned  with.  As  Burger  in 
his  Leonora  tells  the  tale  so  graphically,  for  those 

182 


who  so  love,  there  is  only  one  of  two  things 
thinkable;  either  they  must  be  loved  with  equal 
warmth  in  return,  or  they  can  find  no  rest  until 
they  find  it  in  death. 

This  should  not  be  taken  too  ideally.  It  does 
not  follow  by  any  means  that  such  a  young 
maiden  stands  exceptionally  high  as  a  woman. 
Rather  on  the  contrary  not  infrequently  such 
ecstacy  takes  hold  of  girls  who  are  very  ordinary 
0''".erwise,  sometimes  even  very  egotistical.  In 
course  of  time  also  in  many  cases  this  ecstacy 
entirely  passes  away  and  nothing  remains  save  a 
very  ordinary,  and  sometimes  a  low-lived  person. 
In  the  ordinary  sense  it  is  not  passion  that  over- 
power^ such  a  girl.  And  this  ecstacy  may  be  best 
explained  as  an  inclination  bordering  on  insanity 
to  identify  her  life  with  that  of  another.  It  is  a 
noteworthy  phenomenon.  An  overpowering  desire 
in  the  heart,  which  when  doomed  to  disappoint- 
ment makes  one  quickly  and  resolutely  seek  death, 
is  an  utterance  in  human  life  wliich  deserves 
attention. 

The  Song  of  Songs  describes  this  ecstacy  of 
love,  and  aims  to  outline  an  image  of  the  love 
of  the  soul  for  God.  The  whole  Scripture 
stretches  the  canvas  on  which  at  length  the  Song 
of  Solomon  embroiders  the  image  in  vivid  colors. 
Human  marriage  is  the  embodiment  of  the  tie 
that  binds  God  and  his  people  together,  God  and 
the  individual  soul.  Jehovah  calls  himself  Israel's 
husband,  and  declares  that  he  has  betrothed  him- 
self to  Israel  in  righteousness.  Infidelity  against 
the   Iloly    one   is   called   a   whoring   in   idolatry. 

183 


Thus  it  is  ever  the  God-given  love  between  hus- 
band and  wife,  which  in  vivid  imagery  is  the 
standing  expression  of  the  love  that  binds  the 
soul  to  God.  In  the  New  Testament  this  is 
applied  to  Christ.  He,  the  son  of  God's  good 
pleasure,  is  called  the  Bridegroom  of  his  Church, 
and  his  church  is  the  Bride,  who  invokes  him. 

When  Jesus  analyzes  the  great  commandment 
of  love,  he  turns  to  the  Eternal  Being,  and  out- 
lines this  love  in  terms  which  describe  the 
ecstacy  as  in  life.  To  love  God  with  all  the 
heart,  with  all  the  soul,  with  all  the  mind  and 
with  all  the  strength,  what  else  is  this  than  to 
be  entirely  lost  in,  and  consumed  by,  a  higher 
drawing,  which  makes  us  ignore  every  other  con- 
sideration, in  order  to  know  and  to  find  and  to 
enjoy  the  object  of  our  love,  in  which  to  lose 
ourselves  altogether?  The  deep  significance  which 
the  love  between  husband  and  wife  should 
always  have,  and  which  it  frequently  still  has, 
can  only  be  explained  from  the  fact  that  in  this 
love  God  has  imaged  forth  the  highest  love 
between  himself  and  the  soul. 

This  lends  an  holy  and  exalted  character  to 
this  high-strung  love.  This  accounts  for  the  fact 
that  when  this  love  develops  harmoniously  and 
nobly,  it  creates  the  purest  happiness  on  earth; 
that  in  its  sensual  degeneration  it  works  ruin  and 
corruption;  and  that  when  suddenly  and  inhar- 
moniously  it  takes  hold  of  a  receptive  mind,  it 
wrests  the  intoxicated  soul  away  from  itself  and 
leaves  it  a  prey  to  semi-frenzy.  For  back  of  it 
all  operates  the  higher  love,  which  God  has 
formed    in    the    tie    between    himself    and    his 

184 


creature,  and  it  is  only  the  sinful  character  of 
our  earthly  existence  that  unites  what  does  not 
belong  together,  makes  soul  and  body  part  com- 
pany, and  breaks  the  equilibrium  of  the  inclina- 
tions, so  that  what  is  best  and  holiest  turns  itself 
into  sensuality  or  frenzy.  Like  the  snow-flake, 
which  comes  down  from  the  clouds  pure  white 
but  is  soiled  through  contact  with  the  impurity 
of  this  world. 

Nevertheless,  if  we  would  understand  what  our 
love  for  God  should  be,  we  must  come  back  to 
conjugal  love.  In  the  authorized  version  Psalm 
116:1  reads:  ''I  love  the  Lord."  In  the  orig- 
inal it  only  states:  I  love.  We  would  say:  I 
am  in  love.  It  is  an  utterance  of  the  soul  when 
it  perceives  that  the  power  of  love  has  irresist- 
ibly taken  hold  upon  it;  when  it  feels  itself 
inwardly  moved  as  never  before,  and  driven  by 
an  unknown  inward  pressure;  perceives  and  knows 
that  this  is  love,  and  in  ecstacy  exclaims:  "I 
love,  I  love,  I  love."  And  as  this  wonderful  inner 
motion  of  the  heart  transports  the  maiden  with 
dehght,  when  this  love  directs  itself  to  the  young 
man  of  her  choice,  so  here  the  same  irresistible 
pressure  operates,  only  in  an  entirely  holy  man- 
ner, lifting  the  soul  above  every  other  thought 
and  directing  it  to  God.  With  the  young  maiden 
it  was  but  the  faint  impression  of  the  highest; 
here  it  is  the  highest  itself.  Et-ernal  love,  which 
at  last  moves  the  pure  tie  between  God  and  the 
soul  to  operate  fully  and  harmoniously,  and 
makes  the  soul  to  love  with  all  the  intensity 
which  human  powers  can  command. 

This  is  not  the  mysticism  of  imagination.  It  is 
185 


not  knowing  God  by  the  acts  of  the  will.  Neither 
is  it  knowing  God  through  the  analytic  studies 
of  confessional  standards.  It  is  the  close  approach 
to  God  with  the  warm,  tender  feeling  of  the 
throbbing  heart  that  craves  to  be  cherished;  it  is 
to  have  longed  and  languished  for  what  can  quiet 
the  burning  desires  of  the  heart;  to  have  tried 
everything  that  can  be  tried;  to  have  suffered 
disappointment  with  it  all,  and  now  at  last  to 
find  the  true,  perfect  and  holy  object  of  the  love 
of  the  heart;  to  receive  God  himself  in  the  soul; 
and  in  this  love  to  be  supremely  happy. 

The  difference  is  perceived  at  once  between 
this  love  and  what  is  commonly  passed  as  loving 
God.  Who  does  not  love  God?  Every  one 
indeed,  who  is  not  out  and  out  an  atheist.  Why 
should  he  not  be  loved?  In  him  everything  is 
pure  and  holy  and  exalted.  There  is  nothing  in 
him  why  he  should  not  be  loved,  and  every  one 
feels  that  he  is  worthy  of  the  love  of  all.  The 
masses  in  general  love  God.  They  have  nothing 
.against  him.  In  God  they  find  their  ideal  of 
what  is  beautiful,  right  and  good.  Therefore  they 
•can  not  do  otherwise.  Even  as  they  love  virtue, 
and  right,  so  tliey  also  love  God.  But  in  this 
Platonic  love  glows  no  tiniest  spark  of  personal 
relationship  and  attachment.  It  is  called  love  for 
God,  but  God  has  no  place  in  the  soul  or  in  the 
mind.  The  inclination  and  drawing  of  the  heart 
do  not  go  out  after  him.  There  is  nothing  in 
this  love  of  a  burning  thirst  after  God,  such  as 
makes  the  heart  pant  after  the  water  brooks. 

By  the  side  of  this  cool,  measured,  pseudo-love 
of   the   world,   which    is   heartless,   the   Scripture 

186 


places  the  utterance  of  tenderest  piety  that  seeks 
after  God,  and  finds  him,  and  is  aglow  with 
warmest  love  for  him;  can  not  do  without  him; 
of  itself  thinks  of  him;  is  continually  busy  with 
him;  and  directs  evers^  utterance  of  the  soul  to 
him  and  to  him  alone.  And  in  this  love  there 
is  a  knowledge  of  God,  which  no  analytical  study, 
no  work  of  the  imagination,  and  no  power  of  the 
will  can  bring  us.  It  is  to  love,  and  in  this  love 
itself  to  enjo}^  eternal  life.  And  thus  to  know 
God  with  an  intimacy  such  al  you  would  deem 
would  not  be  seemly  in  a  creature.  Until  in  the 
hereafter  every  wall  of  separation  shall  fall  away, 
and  God  in  us  and  we  in  him  shall  be  the  per- 
fection of  highest  Love. 


36 

^'THOU  HAST  NOT  LAID  ME  UPON 
THINE  HEART." 

To  the  superficial  mind  nothing  seems  so  easy 
as  to  love.  Of  course,  one  loves  himself.  It  is 
not  at  all  difficult  to  love  God.  The  only  trouble 
sometimes  is  to  love  one's  neighbor  as  oneself. 
Even  this  is  not  because  there  is  no  will  and  no 
power  to  love,  but  because  at  times  this  neighbor 
makes  it  almost  impossible. 

This  is  altogether  a  mistaken  view.  To  love 
God  is  far  more  difficult  than  to  love  one's  neigh- 
bor. It  can  safely  be  said  that  where  there  are 
ten  who  love  their  neighbor,  there  is  at  most  only 
one  who  is  consumed  with  love  for  God. 

Jesus,  therefore,  has  put  love  for  God  in  the 

187 


foreground  as  the  first  and  great  commandment. 
There  is  less  complaint  in  the  Bible  about  lack 
of  brotherly  love  than  about  forgetfulness  of  God. 
The  Apostle  shows  that  this  was  no  Jewish  exag- 
geration, when  in  his  epistle  to  the  Romans  he 
reiterates  the  bitter  complaint  of  the  Psalmist 
that:  "There  is  none  that  seeketh  after  God,  no, 
not  one."  This  does  not  exclude  the  fact  that 
love  for  God  can  be  poured  out  in  the  soul.  It 
is  frequently  observed  that  this  Divinely-out- 
poured love  which  at  first  was  small  and  weak, 
afterwards  became  stronger  and  more  tender. 
But  take  a  man  by  himself,  as  he  grows  up  by 
nature,  not  only  among  good-for-nothings  and 
criminals,  but  equally  much  among  cultivated  and 
honorable  people,  there  is  no  love  in  that  man 
for  God.  He  does  not  seek  God.  Indeed,  there 
is  no  one  who  really  loves  God  in  the  way  in 
which  God  requires  it. 

For  a  long  time  this  seemed  to  be  different, 
but  it  was  appearance  only.  Even  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  last  century  it  was  still  the  rule  among 
the  rank  and  file  of  our  people  to  favor  religion 
And  to  abhor  every  form  of  atheism.  Without 
willing  to  be  called  pious,  no  one  desired  to  be 
known  as  irreligious,  and  on  solemn  occasions  the 
name  of  the  Lord  was  always  remembered.  Are 
people  worse  now  than  formerly?  By  no  means. 
They  have  emancipated  themselves  more  gen- 
erally. But  on  the  whole  people  now  are  what 
they  were  before.  Only  with  tliis  difference,  that 
now  unbelief  is  preached  more  boldly  from  the 
pulpit  and  university  chairs,  in  the  press  and  in 
open    meetings.      Has    this    practice    provoked    a 

188 


single  protest?  Not  at  all.  On  the  contrary,  in 
the  course  of  an  ordinary  hfetime  the  faith  has 
been  abandoned  in  ever  widening  circles,  and 
there  is  almost  no  more  shame  now  in  being 
credited  with  atheism.  Even  this  is  nothing  new. 
The  selfsame  condition  prevailed  in  Israel  in  the 
days  of  its  spiritual  apostacy.  This  is  convinc- 
ingly shown  when  God  himself  through  Isaiah 
utters  this  reproach  against  his  people:  "Thou 
hast  lied,  for  thou  hast  not  laid  Me  upon  thine 
heart"   (Is.  57:11,  Dutch  version). 

It  is  very  necessary  therefore  to  examine  still 
more  closely  what  it  is  to  love  the  Lord.  Neces- 
sary also  for  believers,  since  even  among  them 
there  glitters  much  that  seems  like  the  gold  of 
love,  but  which  is  no  gold.  The  first  step  is  to 
realize  that  "to  love  God"  is  not  the  easiest,  but 
the  hardest  thing  to  which  faith  calls  us.  Ordi- 
narily love  is  taken  as  willingness  to  consider 
others  and  to  do  all  we  can  to  make  them  happy. 
This  is  seen  on  every  side  where  philanthropy 
awakens.  Love  there  directs  itself  first,  most  gen- 
erously and  easily,  to  the  unfortunate,  and  it  is 
a  matter  of  congratulation  that  this  generously 
interpreted  philanthropy  is  carried,  in  these  days, 
on  such  large  scales.  This  teaches  us  to  bring 
ofiferings,  it  invites  devotion,  it  lessens  much  suf- 
fering. 

But  with  this  aspect  of  love,  we  make  no 
advances  with  God.  He  is  blessed  forever  more. 
He  is  not  in  need  of  anything.  In  notliing  is  he 
in  need  of  us.  We  can  furnish  him  no  supply. 
Pity,  which  gives  rise  to  philanthropic  love,  can 

189 


never  inspire  us  when  it  concerns  the  ever  Blessed 
One.  Here  another  kind  of  love  is  required.  A 
love  which  springs  from  the  perception  that  we 
belong  with  God  by  reason  of  our  origin  and  man- 
ner of  existence;  that  we  are  his  creatures;  and 
that  therefore  we  can  have  no  reason  for  being, 
no  object  for  existenec.  and  no  future  desi.iny 
except  in  him.  The  hollow  idea  that  we  have  a 
reason  for  existence  in  ourselves  is  robbery  com- 
mitted against  God.  It  is  the  wheel  which 
detached  from  the  wagon  wants  to  roll  on  by 
itself.  And  when  a  man  has  thus  actually  detached 
himself  from  God,  and  from  the  heights  of  his 
imagined  independence  has  turned  himself  to  God, 
to  love  him  as  an  outside  something,  and  calls 
that  love,  it  is  worse  than  caricature  and 
mockery.  It  is  the  outrage  of  love,  which  does 
not  make  us  holy,  but  accuses  and  condemns  us 
before  God. 

To  love  God  is  to  abandon  everything  that 
separates  us  from  God,  and  every  moment  of 
our  life  to  live  wholly  for  God.  To  love  God  is 
to  reconsecrate  to  God  what  became  separated 
from  God.  It  is  a  motion  in  the  soul  which  is 
born  in  us,  when  magnetizing  power  goes  out 
from  God.  and  draws  u;*  to  God.  A  prossiu'e  and* 
an  inclination  in  us,  which  leaves  us  no  rest  for 
a  moment;  and  every  time  pushes  aside,  or  back 
everything  that  separates  or  draws  us  away  from 
God,  and  thus  leaves  us  free  to  hold  communion 
with  God. 

This  is  first   observed  in  prayer.     Take   heed, 
says  the  Apostle   (I  Pet.  3:7)   that  your  prayers 


be  not  hindered.  You  feel  this  yourself  when  you 
want  to  pray,  and  cannot,  because  of  the  things 
that  stand  between  you  and  God.  Your  thoughts, 
inclinations  and  feelings  must  first  be  detached 
from  them  all.  They  must  be  driven  out  from 
the  mind.  And  then  God  comes  back  to  you,  and 
you  can  pray  again.  And  what  happens  in  prayer 
one  moment  must  happen  in  every  particular  of 
your  whole  life;  for  only  then  will  true  love  for 
God  begin  to  awaken  in  you. 

Jesus  had  this  in  view  when  he  said:  ''Thou 
shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart, 
and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind,  and 
with  all  thy  strength."  These  four  together  con- 
stitute the  inner  organization  of  our  spirit.  These 
four  get  implicated  every  time  in  egotistical  or 
worldly  interests.  And  therefore  they  operate 
wrongly.  They  separate  us  from  the  Holy  One. 
And  this  is  love,  that  we  detach  all  four  from 
these  wrong  connections  and  turn  them,  not  in 
part,  but  entirely,  to  God. 

This  is  not  really  an  offering.  An  offering  is 
something  of  our  own,  which  we  could  keep  for 
ourselves,  but  which  we  freely  give  up  to  another. 
Nothing  is  said  of  this  here,  and  never  can  be. 
Our  heart  is  from  God,  our  soul  is  from  God, 
our  mind  is  from  God,  and  all  our  powers  are  his 
property.  Hence  we  bring  God  nothing.  We  but 
return  what  belongs  to  him.  And  when  we  do 
this,  and  do  it  in  such  a  way  that  our  heart  and 
soul  and  mind  and  strength,  all  four,  direct  them- 
selves to  him,  and  serve  him  altogether,  the  sep- 
aration is  ended  and  love  celebrates  her  triumph, 

191 


Then  it  becomes  the  shamefacedness  of  the  thief, 
who  returns  what  he  had  stolen  and  makes  no 
boast  of  merit;  but  prays  to  be  forgiven. 

This  is  what  the  prophet  calls  "to  lay  God  upon 
the  heart."  Love  is  a  tender,  touching  emotion, 
which  needs  symbols.  This  gave  rise  in  olden 
times  to  the  custom  among  lovers  to  wear  each 
other's  picture  on  the  heart.  It  meant  that  one 
had  given  the  other  heart  and  hand,  and  that 
now  one  wears  this  symbol  on  the  heart  as  a 
continual  warning  not  to  let  the  heart,  thus 
sealed,  for  a  moment  go  out  to  another,  but  to 
keep  it  faithfully  for  the  one  that  is  loved.  And 
to  lay  God  upon  the  heart  means  that  the  choice 
has  been  made,  that  the  heart  has  been  given  to 
God,  and  that  now  the  symbol  of  God's  name  is 
placed  upon  it,  to  seal  the  heart  for  God,  and 
closely  to  guard  the  heart  for  God  and  God  alone. 

The  case  remains  always  the  same.  It  is  not 
to  love  God  in  order  to  bring  him  something, 
but  to  lose  self  in  God  because  we  belong  to  him, 
and  because  b}^  this  consecration  of  ourselves 
to  him  alone,  can  the  end  of  our  oxistenco  be 
realized.  To  do  all  this,  not  in  the  mechanical 
form  of  a  calculation,  but  through  the  losing  of 
self  in  the  ecstacy  of  tenderest  love,  is  the  first 
and  great  commandment;  this  is  to  know  the 
Lord,  to  feel  oneself  as  a  child  with  his  Father, 
and  to  be  inwardly  consumed  by  the  love  of  God 
which  is  poured  out  into  our  hearts.  The  ques- 
tion remains,  how  many  there  are,  even  among 
the  pious  in  the  land,  who  in  this  way  have  laid 
God  upon  their  heart? 

192 


37 

"WITH  ALL." 

The  commandment  that  ^.e  shall  love  our  neigh- 
bor as  ourselves  is  so  strongly  emphasized  in  these 
days,  that  among  the  rank  and  file  of  people  the 
first  and  great  commandment  is  more  and  more 
forgotten.  That  it  is  everyone's  calling  first  of 
all  not  only  to  serve  the  Lord,  but  to  love  him — 
who  thinks  of  this? 

This  substitution  of  the  second  in  the  place  of 
the  first  commandment  has  captivated  the  popu- 
lar mind  to  such  an  extent,  that  even  among 
believers  love  for  God  has  lost  much  warmth  and 
tenderness.  Appeals  in  the  house  of  prayer  for 
charitable  and  philanthropic  work  get  more  eager 
hearing  than  the  far  higher  call  of  love  for  God. 
This  changing  and  turning  about  of  the  order 
here  is  fatal.  He  who  loves  God  will  also  love 
his  brother.  But  it  does  not  hold  true  in  every 
case  that  he  who  loves  his  brother  also  loves  God. 
The  first  commandment  guarantees  the  second, 
but  not  the  second  the  first.  To  be  warmly 
affectioned  toward  God,  and  cold  toward  a 
brother,  is  unthinkable.  But  many  men  and 
women  are  prominent  in  all  sorts  of  charitable  and 
philanthropic  works  who  are  stone-cold  toward 
God,  and  who  at  times  even  deny  his  existence. 

It  is  necessary,'  therefore,  that  the  counterpoise 
be  placed  in  the  scale,  and  that  throughout  the 
church  the  great  commandment  to  love  God  be 
solemnly  impressed  upon  the  heart.  The  voice 
of  this  call  should  everywhere  be  loudly  heard 
again.  And  the  preacher  would  have  a  right 
understanding  of  his  duty  if  week  by   week  he 


would  bind  this  love  for  God  upon  the  con- 
science of  his  hearers,  with  such  warmth  and  elo- 
quence, that  the  whole  congregation  would  be 
impressed  with  his  tender  devotion  to  God,  and 
would  be  inspired  by  his  zeal  to  such  a  degree 
as  to  be  itself  revived  in  its  love  for  God,  with 
the  board  of  ofl&cials  in  the  lead.  The  press  also 
should  have  a  part  in  this.  By  means  of  these 
meditations  we  seek  to  direct  attention  in  every 
possible  way  to  the  necessity  of  making,  more 
than  has  yet  been  done,  communion  with,  and 
knowledge  of,  and  love  for  God,  our  daily  busi- 
ness. Sound  creeds,  a  blameless  walk,  and  good 
works  are  undoubtedly  indispensable.  But  the 
marrow  of  all  religion  is  fellowship  with  the 
Eternal.  And  in  this  fellowship  it  is  only  love 
for  God  in  which  the  brightness  of  gold  glitters. 
And  yet  as  soon  as  we  press  this  love  for  God, 
we  face  a  very  great  diflBculty.  It  presents  itself 
in  the  two  words,  which  stand  at  the  head  of 
this  meditation,  or  rather  in  the  last  of  the  two, 
even  in  this  painful  word  all.  Would  you  love 
God?  Then,  says  Jesus,  you  must  love  him 
with  all  your  soul,  with  all  your  heart,  and  with 
all  your  mind.  And  this,  let  us  humbly  confess, 
is  not  achieved  in  this  life  by  the  holiest  of  saints. 
Sin  and  the  world  have  so  estranged  us  from  God 
that  sometimes  it  takes  an  utmost  effort,  even  a 
few  times  a  day,  apart  from  our  regular  prayers, 
to  lift  up  the  heart  to  God  in  a  conscious  utter- 
ance of  love.  Is  it  saying  too  much  when  we 
add,  that  many  prayers  are  said  at  home  and  in 
church,  during  which  the  soul  does  not  commune 
with  God?  And  when  at  times  we  did  succeed 
in  having  the  soul  go  out  in  love  to  God,  what 

194 


then  was  the  degree  of  tenderness  m  the  love, 
and  how  long  did  this  exaltation  of  soul  con- 
tinue? More  yet,  how  often  did  it  become  m  us 
a  thirsting  after  God?  And  suppose  we  have 
come  thus  far,  not  every  day,  but  most  days 
how  far  distant  are  we  even  then  from  loymg  Uod 
with  all  the  heart,  and  all  the  soul,  and  all  our 
consciousness?  For  this  all  must  also  mclude  all 
the  day,  so  that  our  love  for  God  never  escapes 
us,  even  in  sleep.  , 

Naturally,  a  distinction  must  here  be  made. 
Love  for  God  can  spring  up  m  the  heart,  can 
scintillate  in  the  word,  can  restram  sm  and  selt- 
ishness,  and  inspire  deeds  of  devotion  and  heroic 
courage.  But  the  inspiration  of  this  love  can 
ver\^  well  operate  in  us,  while  we  may  not  be  con- 
scious of  our  love  for  God,  nor  of  the  reciprocal 
working  of  God's  love  for  us  in  our  heart.  J^rom 
love  for  God  a  martyr  can  go  into  death,  and  m 
the  moment  of  dying  be  so  abstracted  by  deadly 
pain,  or  by  the  taunts  of  his  executioners,  that 
for  the  moment  tender  communion  of  love  with 
God  is  impossible.  It  is  equally  true  that  busi- 
ness or  professional  duties,  intercourse  with  peo- 
ple and  the  cares  of  daily  life  may  so  engage 
our  minds  that  with  perchance  a  passing  thought 
of  God,  we  are  utterly  unable  to  center  our  mind 
on  God.  But  though  we  keep  all  this  out  of 
count,  it  is  still  the  great  commandment,  to  love 
God  with  all  the  heart,  with  all  the  soul,  and 
with  all  the  mind.  And  who  of  us  has  ever  suc- 
ceeded in  doing  more  of  this  than  a  small  part 

of  the  whole?  ^  •  .    .  i    r 

But  there  is  One  who  has  not  fainted  betore 
this  first  and  great  commandment,  but  no  more 

195 


than  one:  even  Christ.  Jesus  alone  has  fulfilled 
the  second  commandment  of  love  to  fellowmen, 
and  with  respect  to  this,  be  it  at  a  far  distance, 
many  saints  have  pressed  his  footsteps.  But  in 
the  fulfilment  of  the  first  and  great  commandment 
Jesus  stands  incomparably  alone.  He  alone  has 
loved  God  with  all  his  heart,  with  all  his  soul, 
with  all  his  mind  and  with  all  his  strength, 
always,  even  unto  the  end,  without  one  moment's 
interruption.  This  is  his  crown  of  glory.  Therein 
is  the  life  of  the  world.  Think  him  away  and 
the  whole  world,  with  its  thousand  millions  of 
people,  stands  before  God  without  one  among 
them  who  has  kept  the  great,  supreme  and  first 
commandment.  But  he  has  come,  and  now  there 
is  One  from  whose  real  human  heart  and  real 
human  soul  and  real  human  consciousness  pro- 
ceeds this  pure,  full,  unalloyed  love  for  God,  for 
the  joy  of  which.  Almighty  God  has  created  all 
mankind.  This  is  the  shield  which  is  lifted  up 
upon  us.  This  accounts  for  the  fact  that  God 
can  still  tolerate  this  world  and  bear  it. 

With  us  also  this  will  come.  Many  of  our 
beloveds,  who  in  the  earth  did  not  reacK  it  by 
far,  in  the  realms  of  everlasting  light  now  bring 
this  perfect  love-ofifering  to  God.  And  we  shall 
come  to  it  when  in  death  we  shall  fully  die  unto 
sin  and  we  shall  be  done  with  the  world,  and 
shall  know  God  even  as  we  are  known.  That 
is,  if  we  fall  asleep  in  Jesus,  if  in  death  there 
shall  be  nothing  left  to  separate  us  from  him. 

And  that  which  makes  us  cleave  to  Christ  is 
just  this:  That  we  love  God,  that  the  love  of 
God  has  been  poured  out  in  our  hearts,  that  the 
love    of   God   has   operated   in  us,   that  with  us 


the  love  of  God  has  come  first,  and  that  with  all 
our  imperfections  and  shortcomings  it  has  been 
our  deepest  desire  and  will  to  have  God's  love 
be  our  supremest  inspiration,  and  that  it  has  pre- 
pared us  for  what  is  highest  and  best.  And  this 
is  the  mystery  of  being  a  Christian,  that  as  we 
hide  ourselves  in  the  perfect  love  wherewith 
Jesus  has  loved  God,  through  the  glow  of  his 
love  for  God,  we  feel  the  spark  of  our  love  for 
God  burn  in  our  own  heart,  and  that,  when  it 
goes  out,  Jesus  kindles  it  again. 


"WITH    ALL   THINE    HEART." 

Underneath,  still  deeper  than  the  heart,  lives 
the  soul.  When  God  searches  a  person  he  tries 
not  merely  the  heart,  but  enters  still  more  deeply 
into  his  being.  The  Scripture  expresses  this 
plastically  by  saying  that  after  God  has  tried  the 
heart  he  also  trieth  the  reins  (Jer.  11:20)  in 
order  to  examine  us  in  our  inmost  parts.  In 
moments  of  extreme  tension  it  is  felt,  even  among 
us,  that  the  heart  is  not  yet  all,  but  that  we  must 
reach  down  to  the  marrow  of  our  inmost  self. 
We  see  it  in  the  case  of  Jonathan.  When  David 
had  sworn  that  he  would  alwa5"s  be  faithful  to 
him  and  to  his  house,  Jonathan,  deeply  moved, 
replied:  "Whatsoever  thy  soul  desireth,  I  will 
even  do  it  for  thee"  (I  Sam.  20:4). 

In  all  seriousness  the  only  element  of  worth 
in  the  heart  is  that  whidi  comes  into  it  from  the 
soul,  and  passes  through  it  to  the  soul.  What 
goes  on  outside  of  the  soul  may  indeed  be  very 
attractive.     It  is  less  captivating  when  only  the 


outward  appearance  interests  us.  It  is  more 
strongly  attractive  when  we  admire  a  man's  cour- 
age and  energy,  devotion  and  self-sacrifice.  But 
all  this  passes  away.  We  do  not  assimilate  it  into 
our  life.  As  a  rule,  the  emotions  of  the  heart, 
which  do  not  touch  the  soul,  do  not  rise  higher 
than  the  feelings,  sometimes  not  higher  even  than 
the  pseudo-life  of  sentimentality.  The  function 
of  the  heart  onh'  derives  all  real,  abiding  worth 
from  the  relation  which  it  sustains  to  the  soul. 

This  does  not  imply  bj^  any  means  that  the 
heart  is  a  superfluity,  and  that  the  soul  alone  is 
important.  On  the  contrary  the  heart  has  been 
given  us  of  God  as  an  absolutely  indispensable 
organ  of  the  soul.  That  which  stirs  in  the  soul 
can  only  come  through  the  means  of  the  heart  to 
that  supreme  perception  and  lofty  utterance 
which  we  glorify  as  love.  In  the  great  command- 
ment, therefore,  Jesus  puts  the  heart  in  the  fore- 
ground. First:  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy 
God  with  all  thine  heart,  and  only  then:  Thou 
shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  soul. 

This  could  not  be  otherwise.  Love  does  not 
have  its  beginnings  in  the  soul,  but  in  God.  It 
comes  to  us  from  God.  And  only  when  this  love 
from  God  enters  through  the  heart  into  the  soul 
does  it  awaken  in  the  soul  the  life  of  reciprocal 
love  for  God,  which  now  presses  from  the  soul 
into  the  heart  and  makes  us  to  love  God.  But 
this  last  stage  is  only  reached  through  he  heart. 
In  the  heart  only  is  the  flame  ignited,  and  there 
the  fire  of  love  burns.  As  long  as  love  is  con- 
fined to  the  soul  it  partakes  more  of  the  nature 
of  worship.  The  heart  alone  breathes  forth 
tenderness  and  warmth.    Only  when  we  love  God 

198 


with  all  the  heart   does  this  love  begin  to  glow 
in  us  with  real  human  feeling. 

Love  of  the  heart  is  irresistible,  mutual  attrac- 
tion. The  Scripture  speaks  of  it  more  than  once 
as:  "a  cleaving  of  the  soul  unto  God."  When 
the  magnet  draws  the  steel  so  closely  to  itself 
that  there  is  even  no  more  air  between,  the  steel 
cleaves  unto  the  magnet.  Hence  when  so  tender 
an  affection  springs  up  between  people,  that  at 
length  everything  that  separated  them  falls  away, 
heart  cleaves  unto  heart  and  soul  cleaves  unto 
soul.  In  the  same  way  there  is  no  perfect  love 
for  God  until  everything  is  removed  that  made 
separation  between  him  and  us.  And  it  also 
applies  to  this  love  that  our  heart,  and  through 
the  heart,  our  soul  cleaves  unto  God. 

This  is  a  strong  and  forcible  expression,  such 
as  the  Scripture  uses  again  and  again.  So  strong 
that  we  ask:  Shall  it  ever  be  true  with  us?  But 
this  is  no  question  for  the  child  of  God.  As  a 
rule,  indeed,  a  mountain  of  hindrances  rises 
between  the  soul  and  God.  In  spite  of  this,  how- 
ever, every  child  of  God  has  known  brief 
moments,  in  retirement  and  solitude,  in  which  the 
love  of  God  drew  him  so  strongly  and  irresist- 
ibly, and  God's  blessed  fellowship  in  Christ  over- 
whelmed him  so  blessedly,  that  really  everything 
fell  away,  and  for  the  moment  the  cleaving  of 
the  heart  unto  God  was  the  only  true  expression 
of  what  the  soul  enjoyed  and  felt  towards  God. 
What  is  called  power  of  attraction  in  nature, 
in  the  spiritual  is  called  love.  Love  is  not  some- 
thing artificial,  something  studied,  but  is  of  itself. 
WTien  any  one  loves  you,  you  feel  it.  You  feel 
whether  the  love  which  interests  you,  and  draws 


you,  is  strong  or  weak.  And  when  a  great  love 
directs  itself  to  you,  goes  out  after  you,  and 
begins  to  affect  you,  you  likewise  feel  the  irre- 
sistibleness  of  its  drawing. 

Jesus  himself  calls  this  outgoing  of  love  ''draw- 
ing." The  Father  draws  his  elect.  Of  himself 
the  Savior  said  I  will  draw  all  men  unto  me. 
That  is  to  say,  I  will  play  upon  your  heart  with 
such  power  of  grace  and  love  that  you  will  come 
with  me,  surrender  yourself  to  me,  and  serve  me. 
There  is  ovenvhelming  power  therefore  in  this 
love,  but  so  far  from  violently  inflicting  injury, 
it  affects  one  most  blessedly.  As  the  sun  draws 
the  flower-bud  upward,  and  by  his  cherishing 
warmth  makes  it  to  unfold,  so  this  love  of  God 
draws  you  up  to  himself,  fills  you  with  most 
blessed  sensations  that  make  the  heart  to  leap 
with  holiest  joy.  You  drink  in  this  love,  or  if 
you  like,  it  is  richest  enjoyment  for  the  soul. 
And  in  the  wealth  of  this  tested  love  of  God, 
pure  and  tender  love  for  God  awakens  of  itself 
in  your  heart. 

There  is  also  love  for  the  impersonal.  We  can 
speak  vaguely  of  love  of  nature,  when  it  interests 
us  by  its  beauty  and  loveliness,  or  awes  us  by  its 
sublimity.  We  can  love  science,  righteousness, 
everything  that  is  noble  and  of  good  report.  But 
all  this  is  visionary  love — love  in  general,  which 
finds  no  rest  because  the  soul  that  personsally 
lives  and  loves,  can  only  find  satisfaction  in  per- 
sonal I'ove.  For  this  reason  there  is  something 
tender  already  in  the'  love  for  a  song-bird  or 
domestic  animal.  Here  love  concentrates  itself 
upon  a  definite  object  and  there  is  a  reciprocal 
utterance.     The  attractiveness  of  a  dog  can  be 

200 


very  great,  because  there  is  personal  response. 
This  is  not  the  case  with  nature,  nor  with  science 
or  jurisprudence;  but  it  is  with  a  dog  that  will 
risk  his  life  for  you. 

All  this,  however,  is  but  the  prelude  of  higher 
love,  and  only  with  man  it  begins  to  speak  in 
richer  language,  and  to  reveal  its  higher  nature. 
And  here,  too,  is  ascent  with  differences.  The 
love  of  mother  and  child,  of  father  and  son,  of 
brother  and  sister,  of  friend  and  friend.  Until 
at  last  we  come  to  holy  wedlock.  This  may  at 
times  be  degraded  by  sin,  but  in  its  ideal  inter- 
pretation it  is  highest  love  on  earth,  and  there- 
fore it  is  stamped  by  God  himself  as  the  symbol 
of  the  love  that  binds  him  to  his  elect. 

But  even  in  marriage  love  does  not  reach  its 
full  fruition.  According  to  its  nature  it  is  con- 
scious of  an  impulse  which  rises  higher  still.  And 
when  finally  love  begins  to  reach  out  after  the 
Highest  Being,  and  j^ou  feel  that  the  spark  of  love 
for  God  has  been  kindled  in  your  heart  by  God 
himself,  j^ou  perceive  that  love  in  you  is  now 
where  it  ought  to  be,  that  it  can  rise  no  higher, 
but  also  that  it  has  no  such  desire,  and  that 
therefore  it  is  thrice  blessed. 

The  conflict  which  then  ensues  is  caused  b\^  our 
inequality  with  God.  He  is  everything,  we  noth- 
ing. He  the  High  and  Exalted  One,  we  the  vain 
creatures  of  his  hand.  We  owing  him  everj--- 
thing.  He  needing  nothing.  And  therefore  he 
can  take  nothing  at  our  hand.  Among  ourselves 
love  is  mutual  as  between  equals.  No  great  per- 
sonal love  can  develop  between  a  strong  man  and 
a  small  child.  The  little  child  can  not  rise  to  the 
level  of  the  fully  developed  man.     Nor  can  he 

201 


descend  to  the  child  otherwise  than  by  disin- 
terested kindness. 

And  this  is  just  what  God  has  done  for  us.  He 
has  done  it  in  Christ.  In  Christ  he  has  come 
to  us  as  man,  to  make  the  inequalitj^  equal,  to 
join  himself  to  our  life  and  in  everything  to 
become  like  unto  the  brethren,  only  sin 
excepted.  This  is  the  great  myster>',  by  virtue 
of  which  with  those  who  have  joined  themselves 
to  Jesus,  who  believe  in  him  and  have  become 
one  with  him  in  soul,  tiTie  love  for  God  can 
develop  itself  independently  of  the  hindrance  of 
inequality. 

And  if  now  j-ou  say  that  Jesus  gave  3'ou  every- 
thing, and  that  therefore  you  can  put  no  crown  on 
his  head  which  already  he  does  not  have,  then 
bring  to  mind  that  there  is  one  thing  left  which 
God  alone  can  claim  from  his  people,  and  that 
this  one  thing  is  the  love  of  the  heart.  But  then 
it  must  be  love  with  all  the  heart,  until  the  heart 
shall  yearn  after  God,  as  God's  heart  has  yearned 
after  us. 


^'WITH  ALL  THY  SOUL." 

If  you  begin  to  feel  troubled  and  even  guilty 
that  with  the  passing  years  you  have  made  so 
little  advance  in  love  for  God,  then  examine  with 
more  care  than  before  the  rule  of  Christ  regard- 
ing it.  You  have  known  the  great  command- 
ment from  childhood.  You  have  learned  it  by 
heart,  and  your  conscience  has  admitted  uncon- 
ditionally that  Christ  is  right.  In  your  love  for 
God  nothing  can  be  wanting.  With  all  the  heart 
and    soul    and    mind    and    strength    it    must    be 


unbounded  love.  Everytliing  must  go  for  God 
even  as  you  have  to  look  for  everything  to  God. 

But  even  this  broad  admission  did  not  satisfy 
Jesus.  He  did  not  say:  Thou  shalt  love  the 
Lord  thy  God  in  everyi;hing.  He  has  carefully 
distinguished  between  the  heart,  the  soul,  the 
mind  and  the  strength.  And  did  you  do  well  to 
ignore  this?  There  was  a  purpose  in  this  dis- 
tinction. Our  Lord  has  deemed  this  distinction 
to  be  necessary  for  the  whole  church.  It  wa^  his 
will  that  ministers  of  the  Word  should  bind  this 
love  for  God  severally  with  the  heart,  the  soul, 
the  mind  and  the  strength  upon  the  conscience 
of  believers.  It  was  his  will  that  every  child  of 
God  should  continually  examine  himself,  whether 
he  practiced  his  love  for  God  m  this  same  four- 
fold way. 

True  godliness  would  have  rooted  more  deeply 
and  more  firmly  in  the  life  of  the  church,  if  both 
preaching  and  self-examination  had  been  applied 
more  seriousl}'  to  the  cultivation  of  this  full, 
warm  love  for  God,  and  if  it  had  derived  more 
vital  strength  from  the  keeping  of  this  first  and 
great  commandment.  No  holier  power  can  ani- 
mate us  than  love,  and  in  all  love  the  love  for 
God  wears  the  crown.  Love,  therefore,  is  the 
bond  of  perfection,  provided  it  is  not  volatilized 
into  a  vague  conception  of  ideal  love  without 
rule  or  object.  Everything  noble  and  exalted  in 
love  that  can  be  idealized  and  celebrated  in  song, 
is  only  real,  when  it  is  a  love  that  first  loves  God 
and  for  his  sake  one's  neighbor. 

Attention  is  at  once  arrested  by  the  fact  that 
in  commending  love  for  God,  Jesus  gives  the 
heart  the  first  mention,  and  not  the  soul.     We 

203 


would  have  done  otherwise.  The  soul  as  the 
center  of  our  inner  life  would  have  been  men- 
tioned first,  and  from  this  we  would  have  derived 
love  with  the  heart  and  mind  and  all  our  strength. 
Jesus,  on  the  other  hand,  begins  with  the  heart 
and  then  points  to  the  soul,  the  mind  and  the 
strength . 

This  difference  between  heart  and  soul  is  made 
clear  by  the  word  of  the  Lord  in  Jeremiah  4:10 
and  18.  At  one  time  Israel  is  told  that  the 
terrible  outpouring  of  God's  wrath  shall  reach 
unto  the  heart;  and  at  another  time  that  it  shall 
reach  unto  the  soul,  but  with  a  sharply-outlined 
distinction.  When  the  troubles  that  come  upon 
Israel  are  described  in  their  first  stages  of  alarm, 
it  is  said:  ''This  is  thy  wickedness,  it  is  so 
bitter  that  it  reacheth  unto  thine  heart"  (4:18). 
When  suffering  continues  and  the  case  at  length 
becomes  fatal,  it  is  said:  "That  the  sword 
reacheth  unto  the  soul"  (4:10).  Thus  the  heart 
is  the  seat  of  the  emotions  and  sensations,  and 
the  soul  is  the  seat  of  life  itself. 

Applied  to  love,  it  is  the  heart  that  receives 
the  impressions  of  love  and  makes  this  ardent 
feeling  to  flow  forth.  But  love  is  clarified  in  the 
soul,  and  the  impulse  of  the  passion  of  love 
springs  from  the  soul.  Without  the  heart  love 
can  not  be  enjoyed,  neither  can  it  be  exercised. 
But  neither  can  love,  which  is  thus  enjoyed  or 
exercised,  touch  your  self  if  there  were  not  some- 
thing deeper  back  and  underneath  the  heart,  even 
the  source  of  life  itself,  and  if  there  were  there 
no  operation  of  the  tie  that  binds  heart  and  soul 
in  one. 

Without  ears  there  is  no  liearing,  and  there  is 

204 


no  speaking  without  voice.  But  it  is  the  soul 
which  employs  the  ear  as  an  instrument  to  hear, 
and  which  speaks  in  the  voice,  if  the  saying  shall 
be  true.  In  the  same  way  there  is  no  drinking 
in  of  love,  and  no  exhibition  of  love,  without  the 
heart;  but  it  is  always  the  soul  that  employs  the 
heart  as  instrument  by  which  to  enter,  with  its 
deepest  and  most  hidden  life,  upon  the  wealth  of 
love. 

To  be  able  to  say,  therefore,  that  we  love  God 
with  the  heart,  will  not  suffice.  With  the  heart 
one  can  feel  sweetly  moved  by  enticing  love, 
and  become  aware  of  reciprocal  feeling  of  love 
within,  and  be  quite  innocent  of  actual  true  love, 
simply  because  the  soul  has  no  share  in  it. 

This  is  strikingly  evident  in  art.  In  grand 
opera  we  listen  to  a  touching  recital  of  human 
suffering.  At  the  time  we  are  deeply  moved  and 
carried  along.  The  sensations  of  anxious  fore- 
bodings, described  in  song,  were  sj^mpathetically 
felt  in  the  heart.  We  lived  with  the  characters 
of  the  plot  and  shared  their  suffering.  But  pres- 
ently the  play  is  over.  For  a  moment  the  impres- 
sion stays  by.  But  an  hour  later  everything 
is  forgotten  and  we  continue  our  ordinary  course 
as  though  nothing  had  happened.  The  case  is 
not  that  the  heart  had  not  been  moved,  for  even 
shallow  feelings  touch  it.  But  the  soul  had  no 
part  in  it,  and  therefore  it  did  not  touch  us. 

The  same  thing  continually  happens  in  life,  A 
mother  can  not  detect  a  tear  in  the  eye  of  her 
child,  but  is  at  once  almost  moved  to  tears  her- 
self, and  at  the  moment  will  do  everything  she  can 
to  comfort  her  darling  and  help  him  to  forget  his 
woes.     But  in  many  instances  this  does  not  go 

205 


beyond  the  confines  of  the  heart.  When  the 
child  that  wept,  laughs  again,  everything  is  over. 
Because  the  love  for  her  child  does  not  spring 
from  the  depths  of  her  soul,  she  does  not  know 
how  to  love  the  soul  of  her  child,  hence  she  does 
not  save  but  spoil  him. 

So  there  is  a  love  for  God  with  the  heart, 
which  is  offended  when  the  Divine  honor  is 
attacked,  and  which  takes  pleasure  in  tender 
feelings  toward  the  Lord,  but  the  object  of  it  is 
self  and  not  God.  There  is  love  there,  but  not 
the  love  that  goes  down  deep  enough  to  reach 
unto  the  soul.  Our  self  is  in  our  soul.  There  it 
stands  before  the  face  of  our  God.  And  there- 
fore on  the  floor  of  the  soul  the  question  must 
be  decided  whether  God  exists  for  our  sake,  or 
whether  we  exist,  solel}'  and  alone,  for  the  sake  of 
God. 

When  we  can  say:  As  for  me,  the  latter  is 
the  case,  it  is  glorious.  But  now  the  second  ques- 
tion arises:  Do  we  consent  to  have  it  so  from 
submission,  from  the  sense  of  our  own  unworthi- 
ness,  or  from  love?  Would  we  exist  for  no  other 
purpose  than  for  the  sake  of  God,  because  we  can 
do  no  other?  Or  because  we  would  not  wish  it 
any  other  way,  since  God  is  our  tenderest  love 
and  our  whole  existence  is  lost  in  love  for  him. 
If  this  be  so,  this  love  will  be  enjoyed  through 
the  heart,  and  it  will  express  itself  through  the 
heart.  The  costly  instrument  of  the  heart  was 
given  us  for  this  purpose.  But  he  who  employs 
this  heart  and  plays  on  it  in  happy  love,  is  always 
self  in  the  center  of  the  soul,  in  the  deep  under- 
ground of  existence,  where  our  person  lives  in 
the  holy  presence  of  the  Triune  God. 

206 


Have  you  become  aware  of  any  such  love  for 
God  in  your  inmost  self?  If  so,  do  you  under- 
stand what  it  means  to  love  God  in  your  inmost 
self  with  all  your  soul?  Not  whether  there  are 
times  when  this  is  so,  but  whether  it  has  become 
the  fixed  habit  of  your  life.  Not  whether  you 
surrender  yourself  to  the  love  of  God  with  a 
part  of  your  soul,  with  a  part  of  yourself,  to  the 
end  that  you  might  be  saved,  and  be  forever 
happy,  but  whether  you  give  yourself  to  it,  to 
the  end  that  you  might  glorify  God  forever.  It 
is  not  the  division  of  the  soul  between  yourself 
and  God  which  is  required,  in  order  that  you  may 
commit  continual  robbery  in  the  soul,  and  with- 
hold from  God  part  of  your  desires,  part  of  your 
future,  and  part  of  your  self-consciousness.  The 
claim  is  terribly  great.  It  is  all  comprehensive: 
Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy 
soul.  It  means  that  there  shall  be  no  single 
utterance  of  life  in  you  except  such  as  springs 
from  your  love  for  God. 

To  do  this,  it  may  be  said,  we  should  be  angels 
and  not  men.  And  this  is  true,  provided  we  say: 
Not  sinful  men.  But  for  this  you  have  your 
Savior  who,  as  man,  has  fulfilled  this  perfect  love 
for  God  in  your  behalf.  And  if  by  a  true  faith 
you  fly  to  him  for  refuge,  in  spite  of  your  lack 
of  love,  you  will  have  peace  in  your  soul. 

40 

"WITH  ALL  THY  MIND." 

It  is  singular  that  the  first  and  great  command- 
ment includes  the  claim :  to  love  God  with  all  the 
mind.     When  Jesus  holds  the  high  ideal  before 


us,  to  love  God  with  the  heart  and  with  the 
soul,  we  understand  it  at  once;  for  these  are  dis- 
posed to  love.  But  how  can  we  love  with  the 
mind?  The  mind  has  been  given  us  to  think,  to 
ponder  and  to  understand.  How  can  it  be  an 
organ  of  love,  an  instrument  on  which  love  can 
play  its  holy  melodies?  As  a  rule  it  does  not 
impress  us,  because  in  reading  this  command- 
ment no  attention  is  paid  to  it. 

No  account  is  made  of  it.  The  task  of  investi- 
gating the  several  parts  of  this  first  and  great 
commandment  is  not  taken  seriously.  In  reading 
it  over  hastily  we  take  it  to  mean  that  we  should 
use  the  mind  in  the  service  of  God,  and  leave 
the  heart  and  the  soul  the  task  to  love.  But  this 
is  not  so.  It  does  not  say  that  the  mind  must 
serve  God;  that  we  must  direct  our  thought  to 
God;  that  with  the  mind  we  must  come  to  a 
clear  confession  of  God,  nor  how  we  should 
direct  the  working  of  the  mind  to  God.  It 
declares  clearly  and  plainly  that  with  the  mind 
we  must  love  God.  Jesus  includes  all  religion  in 
the  one  great  idea  of  love,  which  love  must  pene- 
trate and  pervade  every  part  of  our  human  per- 
sonality. From  the  soul  it  must  have  dominion 
not  oiiiy  in  the  heart,  but  also  in  the  mind,  and 
must  bring  it  to  pass  that  all  our  vital  forces  are 
led  by  this  one  supreme  motive  of  love  for  God. 

The  mind  here  does  not  mean  simply  logical 
thought,  clear  judgment  and  learned  concepts, 
but  the  whole  glorious  endowment  of  our  con- 
sciousness, including  representation,  imagination 
and  intellectual  activity. 

'Towers"  are  also  a":  work  in  nature.  Far 
stronger  powers  than  in  us.     But  though  nature 

208 


is  alive,  it  is  unconscious.  And  though  we  are 
aware  of  some  consciousness  in  the  more  highly 
domesticated  animals,  it  is  exceedingly  weak  with 
the  best  of  them.  The  glory  of  conscious  life, 
which  is  only  perfect  in  God,  is  found  in  man 
alone,  because  with  respect  to  this  also  he  has 
been  created  after  the  Divine  image.  Conscious- 
ness may  not  reach  by  far  its  highest  develop- 
ment in  some  people.  With  the  insane  it  is  sadly 
disturbed.  But  the  most  unfortunate  idiot  clearly 
shows  the  unspeakable  greatness  of  the  gift  of 
consciousness,  of  self-consciousness,  and  of  a  con- 
scious life  which  even  the  ordinary  man  has 
received  from  God.  Hence  we  have  no  right  to 
estimate  it  as  inferior  to  the  heart.  And  all 
religion  that  would  confine  the  service  of  God 
solely  to  the  heart,  and  to  good  works,  to  the 
exclusion  of  this  glorious  human  consciousness, 
cripples  itself,  robs  God,  and  is  bound  to  degen- 
erate into  pseudo-religion. 

This  shows  at  once  that  it  is  the  Christian  duty 
of  human  science  to  direct  itself  to  God,  and  that 
not  only  a  part  of  it,  such  as  Theolog>',  should 
take  the  knowledge  of  God  for  its  object,  and 
leave  no  path  untrod  in  which  it  can  enrich  itself, 
but  that  science  as  a  whole,  and  everywhere, 
should  exhibit  the  glory  of  God.  All  science, 
however  much  disciplined  and  learned,  that  leaves 
God  out  of  count,  that  awakens  doubt  about 
his  existence,  or  dares  to  deny  him,  is  no  science 
but  sin.  It  sins  against  the  great  commandment 
that  with  all  the  mind  we  should  first  of  all  love 
God.  And  since  it  is  at  variance  with  every  idea 
of  love  to  pass  its  object  by  with  indifference,  or 
to  ignore  it  altogether,  it  follows  that  the  scientist, 

209 


who  in  his  science  does  not  feel  himself  drawn 
to  God,  and  with  his  scientific  knowledge,  does 
not  before  all  else  seek  God  and  his  glory,  breaks 
the  great  commandment.  And  this  is  the  curse 
that  rests  so  heavily  on  the  science  of  our  times 
that  it  does  not  feel  in  its  veins  the  pulse-beat 
of  love  for  God,  and  that  it  behaves  itself  as 
though  the  great  commandment,  to  love  Gk)d 
with  all  the  mind,  had  never  been  given. 

The  same  applies  to  our  doctrinal  standards. 
The  priests  of  science  are  only  few  in  number, 
but  every  man  is  called  to  confess  the  faith.  It 
is  not  difficult  to  understand  what  this  means. 
Every  man  has  a  conviction,  a  system  of  prin- 
cipal ideas  from  which  he  starts  out,  a  world  of 
thoughts,  however  small,  by  which  he  lives,  for 
which  he  contends,  and  from  which  he  acts.  By 
saying,  therefore,  that  every  man  is  called  to 
make  confession,  we  mean  that  no  man  should 
hold  godless  convictions  of  life,  but  that  in  every 
life-view  God  should  be  the  center;  that  this 
world-view  should  cleave  unto  God,  go  out  from 
and  return  to  him  again;  and  that  everything 
else  in  this  life-view  must  adapt  itself  to  the  love, 
the  ardent  love,  for  God  which  it  claims. 

Not  every  man  can  make  this  clear  for  him- 
self. In  every  other  particular  the  world  derives 
its  great  ideas  and  representations  from  knowl- 
edge that  has  been  handed  down  by  past  gen- 
erations. With  its  confession  of  the  ages,  there- 
fore, the  Church  of  Christ  simply  comes  in  as 
an  aid  to  the  ordinary  man.  In  the  Church,  with 
respect  to  the  knowledge  of  God,  every  man 
receives  the  results  of  age-long  experiences  of 
faith.    And  no  national  conditions  can  be  healthy 

210 


and  normal,  save  as  the  rank  and  file  of  the  peo- 
ple take  the  confessional  standards  of  the  Church 
as  the  starting  point  of  their  views  and  convic- 
tions of  life.  Hence  it  is  ruinous  to  love  for  God 
with  "all  the  mind,"  when  Christian  confessions 
are  left  out  from  a  man's  convictions  of  life,  and 
when  it  is  falsely  preached  that  everything 
depends  upon  the  mysticism  of  the  love  of  the 
heart  and  upon  the  act  of  the  will.  He  who 
drives  this  propaganda  impoverishes  the  love  for 
God,  by  excluding  from  it  all  the  mind,  and  does 
not  tread  in  the  footsteps  of  Jesus,  but  diamet- 
rically and  directly  opposes  his  supreme  com- 
mand. 

With  this,  however,  love  for  God  with  all  the 
mind  has  not  yet  reached  its  limit.  Apart 
from  science  and  Christian  confessions  there  is 
the  ordinary  daily  consciousness,  the  activity  of 
the  mind  in  daily  avocations,  in  social  inter- 
course, in  plans  we  make,  in  lines  of  action  which 
we  lay  out  for  ourselves,  in  intentions  which  we 
foster,  in  reading,  in  thoughts  about  persons  and 
affairs,  in  representations,  in  imaginations,  in 
appreciation  of  art  and  literature,  in  review  of 
the  past  and  in  outlook  upon  the  future.  All  this 
together  forms  the  many-sided  activity  of  our 
consciousness;  it  is  the  daily  sphere  of  activity 
of  all  the  mind;  the  school  and  workshop  of  our 
thought,  study  and  contemplation;  and  all  this 
can  go  on  either  without  God,  or  continuously 
and  at  every  point  it  can  be  inspired  and  ruled 
by  the  thought  of  God,  and  by  the  love  of  his 
name. 

With  every  one  of  us,  therefore,  Jesus  claims 
all  this  for  God.    It  is  his  will  that  love  for  God 

211 


shall  not  only  lead,  direct  and  rule  us  in  all  this, 
but  also  that  from  an  inner  impulse  all  this  shall 
form  and  clothe  itself  in  the  way  which  we  know 
and  understand  is  well-pleasing  unto  God.  Above 
all  else  it  is  his  will  that  we  do  this  not  from  a 
sense  of  duty,  because  we  must,  though  of  our- 
selves we  would  like  to  do  otherwise;  and  not 
for  the  sake  of  escape  from  the  wrath  to  come 
or  of  earning  heaven  thereby;  but  from  love, 
purel}^  from  love  for  God,  because  for  the  sake  of 
God  we  can  no  longer  allow  ourselves  to  use 
this  costly  gift  of  our  consciousness  in  ways  that 
will  grieve  God. 

And  though,  as  we  think  of  all  this,  we  may 
realize  that  in  actual  life  we  are  still  far  distant 
from  this  high  ideal,  in  reading  and  re-reading  the 
great  commandment  the  true  child  of  God  will 
be  arrested  in  his  course  by  this  claim  also,  that 
he  must  love  God  with  all  the  mind.  He  will 
seek  to  control  his  conscious  life  far  differently 
than  before.  And  if  he  succeeds  in  making  his 
love  for  God  more  evident  in  all  his  thoughts 
and  in  all  his  plans,  the  deeper  experience  of  the 
love  of  God  will  be  his  daily  gain,  and  in  his 
inmost  self  secret  fellowship  with  the  Eternal  will 
become  ever  more  sweetly  known. 

41 
"WITH  ALL  THY  STRENGTH." 

Nothing  is  more  grievous  to  a  Christian  soul 
than  the  superficial  fencing  and  boasting  of  love, 
which  is  current  in  our  loveless  society  life.  This 
play  with  what  is  highest  in  heaven  and  on  earth 
is  especially  tr3'ing,  when  in  unbelieving  and  semi- 

212 


believing  circles,  especially  by  entire  and  partly 
emancipated  women,  the  high  ideal  of  love  is 
used  as  a  weapon  with  which  to  oppose  the  faith- 
ful confession  of  the  Gospel. 

Love  is  then  said  to  be  "the  whole  of  religion." 
There  is  no  need  of  anything  more.  The  Old 
Testament  is  by  far  too  unmerciful.  Paul  was 
too  severe  in  his  anathemas,  and  only  saved  his 
honor  by  the  hymn  of  love  in  I  Cor.  13.  Only 
St.  John,  the  apostle  of  love,  is  a  man  of  whom 
to  be  proud.  That  he  should  have  asked  for  fire 
to  come  down  from  heaven  to  destroy  the  enemies 
of  Jesus,  is  probably  not  true.  His  advice  not  to 
show  hospitality  to  one  who  denies  the  doctrine 
of  Christ  (II  John  10)  occurs  indeed  in  his 
epistle,  but  these  epistles  are  unauthentic.  More- 
over as  devotees  at  the  altars  of  love,  they  make 
Jesus  their  boast.  He  never  allowed  himself  to 
be  governed  by  anything  save  gentle,  tender  love. 
At  times,  indeed,  Jesus  could  be  hard,  even 
sharp,  in  his  retorts  to  the  Pharisees,  but  these 
Pharisees  are  the  so-called  orthodox  Christians  of 
today,  whom  they  themselves  do  not  spare 
because  this  is  not  necessary.  These  slaves  of 
the  letter  are  outside  of  the  law,  outside  there- 
fore also  of  the  law  of  love. 

This  false  mania  of  love  is  inexorably  con- 
demned by  Jesus  in  what  he  said  about  the  first 
and  great  commandment.  Truly,  love  is  of  the 
highest  importance.  It  is  the  one  and  only  thing 
that  is  required,  provided  that  it  is  conditioned 
by  this  rule:  That  all  your  love  goes  out  from 
your  love  for  God.  That  is  to  say,  that  in  the 
love-life  love  for  God  stands  in  the  foreground, 
and  that  it  shall  so  dominate  all  of  your  love, 


that  you  love  him  with  all  3-our  heart,  with  all 
your  soul  and  with  all  your  strength.  And  as 
though  this  does  not  state  the  case  sufficiently 
sharply  and  definitely,  and  as  though  to  make 
the  last  misunderstanding  and  misconception 
impossible,  Jesus  adds  a  fourth  claim  and  binds 
it  upon  the  conscience  that  this  love  for  God 
answers  to  the  high  ideal  only  when  it  is  also 
love  for  God  with  all  the  strength. 

Hence  Jesus  does  not  do  what  many  professed 
christians  do.  He  does  not  say:  "God  is  love,  but 
you  should  also  count  with  his  holiness."  No, 
the  Savior  puts  nothing  above,  and  nothing  along- 
side of  love.  Love  to  him  is  all-sufficient.  But 
he  objects,  that  in  principle,  this  love  counts  only 
with  the  neighbor.  He  demands  and  wills  that  in 
our  love,  the  love  for  God  shall  be  the  all- 
dominating  starting  point.  He  will  not  let  3'ou 
go  until  you  understand  that  no  boundary  of  any 
sort  may  ever  be  put  to  this  love  for  God,  and 
that  therefore  it  must  likewise  be  a  love  for  him 
with  all  your  strength. 

Love  for  God  with  all  the  heart,  all  the  soul 
and  all  the  mind  may  be  lost  in  sentiment  or  in 
vague  idealism,  but  when  it  is  required  that  we 
love  God  also  with  all  our  strength,  the  claim  is 
laid  upon  the  actual  life,  the  entire  personal 
existence  and  upon  the  whole  outlay  of  personal 
and  vital  powers. 

Strength  is  what  goes  out  from  us  as  utter- 
ance of  the  talents  wherewith  we  are  endowed, 
of  the  powers  and  capacities  that  are  at  our  dis- 
posal, of  the  means  at  our  command,  of  the  influ- 
ence we  exert,  of  the  time  that  is  apportioned 
unto  us,  and  of  the  circumstances  which  call  out 


the  exhibition  of  our  strength.  Jesus  demands 
that  all  the  powers  that  are  entrusted  to  us,  on 
the  condition  of  responsibility  to  him  who  gave 
them,  shall  be  exercised  in  such  a  way  that  in 
their  working  the  love  for  God  shall  show  itself 
as  the  dominant  element. 

Do  not  take  this  in  a  sickly-spiritual  sense. 
The  idea  lies  at  hand  that  love  for  God  really 
only  shows  itself  in  our  work  and  influence  when 
we  apply  our  strength  exclusively  to  religious 
and  spiritual  things.  For  then  it  is  imagined 
that  a  clergyman  loves  God  better  than  a  la\vyer 
or  a  physician;  that  a  missionary  is  more  devoted 
to  God  than  an  editor  or  a  publisher;  that  an 
institution  for  the  saving  of  unfortunates  is  nobler 
than  one  for  scientific  investigation.  In  brief, 
that  love  for  God  is  more  fully  expressed  by 
service  in  the  realm  of  particular  grace,  than  by 
life  in  the  broader  domain  of  common  grace. 

This  is  all  wrong.  God's  greatness  and  omnip- 
otence do  not  limit  themselves  to  the  more 
restricted  interests  of  the  salvation  of  souls,  but 
pervade  all  human  life.  And  with  every  one  of 
us,  according  to  our  talents  and  callings,  love  for 
God  must  show  itself  with  equal  zeal  and  strength 
in  every  department  of  life.  An  artist  or  sculptor 
can  and  ought  with  equal  consciousness  and  pur- 
pose glorify  God  from  love,  as  a  missionary  or  a 
philanthrophist.  The  humblest  caUing  is  not 
excluded  here.  A  farmer,  who  is  an  elder  or 
warden  in  a  church,  must  serve  God  from  love 
with  all  his  strength  in  stable  and  granary  as  well 
as  in  his  duties  as  church  official.  A  mother 
in  the  bosom  of  her  family  has  as  sacred  a  call- 
ing to  love  God  with  all  her  strength  as  a  nurse 

215 


or  as  a  woman  missionary  in  the  foreign  field. 
False  dualism  which  relegates  the  mother  or  the 
servant  to  common  life  and  pronounces  the  nurse 
sacred,  does  not  feed  the  love  for  God,  but 
poisons  it. 

Three  forms  of  sin  in  this  connection  lower 
human  life:  Neglect,  misuse  and  abuse  of  our 
powers.  In  each  of  these  sins  love  for  God  is 
denied.  No  star  has  been  placed  in  the  firma- 
ment but  has  been  called  to  shine  for  God's 
glory.  God  has  imparted  to  no  human  soul  a 
grain  of  gold,  but  the  brightness  of  it  must  appear 
and  glisten  in  his  honor.  But  what  the  stars  do 
not  do  is  done  by  indolent  man.  Many  people 
of  conspicuous  talent,  instead  of  improving  it  for 
God  do  nothing  with  it  at  all.  Of  course  it  would 
require  effort,  sacrifice  and  self-denial  to  improve 
each  latent  talent  to  the  full.  But  when  they  are 
not  willing  to  make  tliis  effort,  sacrifice  and  self- 
denial  for  the  sake  of  God,  where  then  is  their 
love  for  God?  Even  among  Christians  God's 
honor  would  be  far  more  glorious,  if  instead  of 
being  buried  under  mountains  of  self-sufficiency 
and  indolence,  all  the  particles  of  hidden  gold 
could  glisten  in  public  sight. 

The  misuse  of  talents  is  different,  but  it  is 
equally  sinful  and  loveless  before  God.  Here  no 
efforts  are  spared;  sacrifices  are  freely  made;  but 
the  object  of  it  all  is  to  secure  position  for  onc- 
self;  to  make  good  along  material  lines;  to  please 
others;  and  to  become  rich,  not  in  God,  but  in 
public  esteem.  Very  hard  work  is  done,  but  from 
selfish  motives,  and  not  for  God's  dear  sake,  and 
for  love  of  God.  It  is  not  working  while  it  is 
day,  as  a  child  from  love  for  his  Father,  in  the 


sure  confidence  that  he  will  supply  all  our  needs, 
but  slaving  for  the  sake  of  providing  the  means 
oneself.     It  is  for  money  and  not  for  God. 

And  along  this  line  the  third  sin  io  easily  com- 
mitted, even  the  yet  worse  abitse  of  one's  talents 
in  the  face  of  God  and  of  his  sacred  claims.  O, 
who  can  count  the  men  who  might  have  shone  as 
stars  of  the  first  magnitude  in  honor  of  the  Lord, 
but  who  have  abused  their  noble  gifts  in  break- 
ing down  what  is  holy,  in  attacking  the  Word  of 
God,  in  opposing  religion,  and  at  length  in  the 
daring  attempt  to  eradicate  faith  in  God  from 
the  lives  of  others.  Who  does  not  know  them, 
the  singers  and  the  artists,  who  have  abused  their 
glorious  talents  in  behalf  of  wantonness  and  arti- 
ficial tastes,  and  in  drawing  souls  away  from  God. 
How  much  wit  has  been  abused  in  mocking  at 
holy  things  and  in  making  them  appear  ridiculous. 
What  keenness  of  insight  has  degenerated  into 
cunning  and  tricky  slyness  for  the  sake  of  cherish- 
ing lies  and  dishonesty.  What  maidenly  beauty 
and  loveliness  has  been  sinned  away  in  the  pas- 
sion to  please  and  to  cherish  impurity  of  purpose. 
All  this  abuse  has  been  banefuUy  expressive  of 
enmity  against  God  and  not  of  love  for  God. 

By  the  side  of  this  neglect,  misuse  and  abuse 
of  our  gifts  and  talents,  Jesus  places  nothing  save 
the  love  for  God.  He  does  not  bind  this  claim  on 
the  conscience  of  the  worlds  for  the  world  does 
not  know  true  love,  because  it  knows  not  God, 
and  all  true  love  proceeds  from  love  for  God. 
But  he  puts  the  claim  in  all  its  fulness  and  bound- 
lessness upon  you,  who  confess  his  holy  name. 
He  will  not  let  you  go  until  the  scales  fall  from 
your   eyes   and   you    begin  to   see   that  you   sin 

217 


your  life  awaj-  as  long  as  you  do  not  know  that 
craving  after  the  fullness  of  love  for  the  Eternal 
which  can  not  rest  until  it  loves  God  also  with 
all  its  strength. 

42 

"HE  THAT  LOVETH  NOT  KNOWETH 
NOT  GOD." 

Knowledge  of  God  is  eternal  life.  Not  that  the 
one  is  something  which  is  added  to  the  other, 
for  this  knowledge  is  itself  eternal  life.  This 
knowledge  of  God,  therefore,  can  not  be  limited 
to  what  the  understanding  grasps  or  does  not 
grasp,  or  to  what  has  been  committed  to  memor}-. 
Knowledge  of  God  truly  reflects  an  ever  clearer 
image  in  the  mirror  of  our  consciousness,  but  it 
can  never  be  outward,  abstract  or  a  barren  jug- 
glery with  words.  This  knowledge  comes  to  us  in 
virtue  of  our  second  birth,  even  as  a  child  knows 
his  father  and  mother.  In  bold  words,  one  might 
say  this  knowledge  is  in  the  blood.  It  is  a  Divine 
atavism.  This  knowledge  is  taken  hold  of  in  the 
will,  when  the  will  takes  hold  of  the  will  of  God. 
This  knowledge  continually  increases  in  the  secret 
walk  with  God,  and  it  matures  in  the  life  of 
prayer.  In  the  gloomy  depths  of  sorrow  and  on 
the  sunny  heights  of  joy  and  prosperity  this 
knowledge  brings  us  ever  nearer  to  the  riches  that 
abide.  It  is  a  knowledge  which  comes  of  itself 
continually  from  the  stream  of  life  to  the  sur- 
face; which  uses  our  person  as  its  organ;  and 
which  at  times  has  moments  when  it  seems  that 
"seeing  face  to  face"  as  through  the  veil  of  the 
sanctuary  is  already  granted  here. 

This  rich  knowledge  of  God,  ever  more  mature, 

218 


ever  more  full  and  overflowing  with  Divine  sweet- 
ness, must  of  course  be  apprehended  in  the  clear 
consciousness,  and  be  poured  over  as  it  were  mto 
the  doctrinal  standards  of  the  Church  of  Christ,  and 
into  our  personal  confession.    Unless  this  is  done, 
mystical  corruption  quickly  enters  in  as  well  as 
mania    for    hallucinations    and    weakening    senti- 
mentality.    It    fills    one    with    sorrow,    when    in 
Church   and   out   of   it  barren  school-learning  is 
seen  in  the  place  of  Hfe,  and  the  knowledge  of 
God  is  treated  as  though  it  were  a  corpse  rather 
than  an  inspiring,  elastic  hfe  pervading  the  soul. 
This    is    not    in    accord    with,    but    diametrically 
opposed  to,  Scripture.     Hear  the  proclamation  of 
the  apostle  of  the  Lord:     ''He  that  loveth  not 
knoweth  not  God,  for  God  is  love"  (I  John  4:8). 
If  this  puts  it  strongly,  the  fact  remains:  that 
by  being  most  like  God  in  what  we  do  we  enter  into 
the  pure  knowledge  of  God.     With  this  in  view 
consider  the  forgiveness  of  sin,  and  you  will  under- 
stand the  mystery  of  this  knowledge  of  God.  The 
chief   question  of  your  life   and   of  your   future 
which  concerns  you  personally  is  now  and  always 
will  be  whether  God  forgives  you  your  sin.    This 
is  not  the  way  in  which  it  is  presented  m  the 
preaching  of  the  day.     For  this  makes  the  great 
question  of  life  to  consist  in  ridding  ourselves  of 
sin  and  in  w^orking   out   our   own   sanctification. 
And  this  is  self-delusion.     It  is  and  always  will 
be  even  as  St.  Paul  and  Luther  and  Calvin  bound 
it  upon  the  soul.     The  great  question  of  life  is, 
how  shall  I  be  just  before  God?     Forgiveness  of 
sin  is  the  way  to  dying  unto  sin;  not  otherwise. 
How  we,  who  are  in  the  midst  of  sin  until  we 
die,  can  be  called  unto  sonship  with  God,  to  dwell 


forever  in  the  Father-house  above,  this  and  this 
alone  is  the  mighty  problem  of  life  which  imme- 
diately touches  our  relation  to  God  and  our 
knowledge  of  the  Eternal.  Thus  the  riddle  of 
the  world  and  that  of  our  soul  always  comes 
down  again  to  this  one  inquiry:  Is  there  grace 
for  me  also,  and  forgiveness  and  perfect  recon- 
ciliation? 

It  is  exceedingly  significant  that  in  the  Our 
Father  the  brief  petition  for  forgiveness  links 
itself  as  with  an  iron  hand  to  the  declaration, 
that  we  ourselves  forgive.  "Give  us  this  day  our 
daily  bread,"  is  immediately  followed  by  the 
praj-er  for  the  daily  bread  of  Divine  forgiveness 
for  the  life  of  the  soul.  And  this  is  joined  to  the 
honest  and  fully-meant  declaration:  As  we  for- 
give those  that  trespass  against  us.  In  other 
words :  You  must  love,  with  that  best  love,  which 
makes  you  forgive,  from  the  heart,  those  that 
have  wronged  you.  And  he  alone  who  loves  like 
this  knows  God.  He  alone  knows  God  in  this 
his  highest  love,  that  though  our  sins  be  as 
scarlet  he  will  make  them  white  as  snow,  yea, 
though  they  have  risen  mountain-high,  he  casts 
them  into  the  depths  of  the  sea. 

Actually,  therefore,  in  the  Our  Father  itself  is 
expressed  this  significant  thought  which  it  seemed 
so  bold  to  utter,  that  we,  by  forgiving  others, 
learn  to  understand  that,  and  how,  God  forgives  us; 
that  is  to  say,  that  by  loving  others  we  learn  to 
know  God  in  his  love  for  us.  And  that  he  that 
so  loveth  that  he  forgives  his  enemy  entirely  and 
altogether  from  the  heart  increases  in  the  knowl- 
edge of  God,  learns  to  know  God,  and  learns  to 
understand  how  God  loves  him. 

220 


Does  this  begin  with  you,  so  that  you  love 
first,  and  that  afterwards  God  loves  you?  Far 
from  it.  Love  never  begins  with  you.  Back  of 
the  first  stirrings  of  love  that  ever  moved  the 
soul,  it  was  God  who  put  it  there.  Neither  can 
you  ever  forgive  from  yourself.  You  can  forgive 
in  a  way  which  makes  your  forgiveness  itself  to 
be  new  sin  to  j^ou,  but  never  in  the  way  which 
can  release  the  soul.  Frequently  we  hear  of  a 
man  of  the  world  who  forgives.  Indeed,  as  such, 
you  have  done  this  yourself  from  a  sense  of 
superiority,  in  order  to  show  that  your  enemy 
was  of  too  little  consequence  than  that  he  could 
ofifend  you;  or  to  make  a  show  of  your  own 
virtue  in  not  carrying  a  grudge,  and  so  to  rid 
yourself  of  him  and  to  be  at  peace  with  yourself. 

Such  forgiveness,  however,  has  nothing  in  com- 
mon with  real  forgiveness,  except  appearance  and 
name.  What  the  Our  Father  means  on  the  other 
hand  is  forgiveness  from  love,  which  is  so  warm, 
honest  and  real  as  to  make  you  feel:  if  God  will 
so  forgive  me  I  am  saved.  For  then  it  is  God 
himself  who  has  quickened  this  love  in  my  heart, 
who  from  his  own  love  has  made  this  love  to 
forgive  flow  into  my  soul,  and  who  in  my  for- 
giving of  my  enemy  makes  me  to  know  his 
eternal,  compassionate  and  unfathomable  love  for 
me,  who  was  once  myself  his  enemy,  but  now 
his  child. 

At  J;he  sound  of  the  Apostolic  word:  "He  that 
loveth  not  knoweth  not  God,"  the  conscience  as 
a  rule  falls  asleep  with  self-satisfaction.  What 
man  is  there  who  loves  nothing  and  no  one.  Even 
robbers  have  been  known  to  love  an  animal,  a 
child  or  wife  at  great  sacrifice  of  self.    But  what 

221 


is  that?  When  it  says:  He  that  loveth  not,  it 
means:  He  who  does  not  Hve  by  love;  he  who 
is  not  governed  by  love;  he  who  does  not  rejoice 
in  love,  and  has  no  love  that  can  endure  the  test 
of  fire.  And  love  is  put  to  this  fiery  test,  not  with 
respect  to  those  who  are  necessary  to  us,  and 
who  are  agreeable  to  us  in  life,  but  only  with 
respect  to  the  man  who  stands  in  our  way,  whom 
we  can  call  our  enemy.  The  genuineness  of  your 
love  therefore  is  only  evident  in  forgiveness,  even 
in  the  forgiveness  of  him  who  has  offended  you, 
who  has  opposed  you,  and  who  has  embittered 
your  very  life.  To  forgive  such  an  one,  not  from 
duty  but  from  love,  this  alone  is  proof  that  there 
is  this  love  in  you  which  makes  you  learn  to 
know  God. 

But  you  say,  "This  is  impossible.  I  can  forgive 
for  God's  sake,  and  also  because  I  myself  am  sin- 
ful. I  can  forgive  from  the  sense  of  Christian 
duty,  but  not  otherwise."  And  yet  Jesus  demands 
it:  Love  your  enemies,  bless  them  that  curse 
you.  Consider  it  well.  Thou  shalt  love  God  with 
all  thy  soul,  with  all  thy  heart,  with  all  thy 
mind,  and  with  all  thy  strength.  And  the  second 
like  unto  it  is:  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor 
as  thyself;  and  he  is  thy  enemy.  Not  only  must 
I  love  my  neighbor  also,  but  this  second  com- 
mandment is  like  unto  the  first.  When  it  is  asked : 
"How  can  this  be?"  we  reply:  only  when  you 
love  in  your  neighbor  what  there  is  of  God  in 
him.  Nothing  more.  Not  his  sin,  neither  his 
%wong  committed  against  you.  These  you  should 
rather  hate.  But  even  as  you  love  nature  because 
it  shows  forth  the  power  and  glory  of  the  Lord, 
and  an  animal  because  it  is  wonderfully  organ- 

222 


ized  and  endowed  with  instinct  by  its  Maker,  so 
you  should  much  more  love  your  neighbor  as 
man,  because  God  has  created  him  after  his  image 
and  has  endowed  him  with  wonderful  talents  and 
gifts. 

If  all  this  has  been  corrupted  and  spoiled  and 
has  become  hopelessly  satanic,  so  that  there  is 
nothing  more  of  God  in  him,  then  love  ceases 
and  turns  into  hatred,  even  as  it  should.  Satan 
also  was  a  most  wonderful  creature,  but  he  has 
sinned  awa}'  his  all,  and  therefore  every  child  of 
God  hates  this  monster.  But  however  deeply 
fallen  he  may  be,  man  in  this  life  is  never  like 
this.  The  murderer  on  the  cross  rejoices  before 
the  throne.  Jesus  has  renewed  unto  life  those 
who  have  wandered  farthest  away  from  the  fold. 
And  this  is  the  glory  of  the  Gospel  that  in  every 
man,  thus  also  in  your  enemy,  there  is  a  point 
of  connection  where  grace  may  enter  in.  By 
this  alone  is  the  gospel  our  salvation.  And  he 
who  for  God's  sake  heartily  loves  this  remain- 
ing spark  even  in  those  who  have  wandered 
farthest  r.way,  loves  with  a  love  which  learns  to 
know  God  in  this  his  eternal  love  wherewith, 
while  we  are  yet  sinners,  he  also  loves  us. 

43 

"CLEARLY  SEEN   AND   UNDERSTOOD   BY 
THE  THINGS  THAT  ARE  MADE." 

From  of  old  the  Church  has  pointed  to  nature 
and  to  the  Bible  as  the  sources  of  our  knowledge 
of  God;  that  is:  the  knowledge  of  God  which 
comes  to  us  from  without ;  which  can  be  expressed 
in  abstract  ideas;   and  therefore  has  a  place  in 

223 


Christian  creeds.  This  does  not  include  experi- 
mental knowledge  of  God,  which  comes  to  ii3 
personally  from  spiritual  experience,  from  com- 
munion of  saints  and  secret  fellowship  with  God. 

The  knowledge  of  God  which  comes  to  us  from 
without  is  majestic.  Confining  ourselves  to  what 
nature  brings,  the  Reformed  confession  truly  and 
beautifully  declares,  that  all  creation  is  as  a  living 
book,  the  letters  of  which  are  the  creatures.  But 
the  book  of  nature  brings  us  no  further  than  the 
recognition  of  the  attributes  of  God,  his  power, 
wisdom,  goodness,  and  so  much  more.  It  has 
nothing  to  say  about  life  in  the  spiritual  king- 
dom, of  direction  and  rule  by  the  Holy  Ghost, 
of  making  our  will  one  with  the  will  of  God,  of 
having  Divine  love  poured  out  into  our  hearts, 
of  drawing  closer  to  him,  who  is  love,  or  of 
mystic  contemplation. 

The  Confession  is  a  banner  with  clear  inscrip- 
tions, which  we  lift  up  before  the  world  in  order 
to  declare  the  glory  and  majesty  of  him  whom 
we  worship;  but  it  is  not  the  intimate  communi- 
cation of  that  knowledge  of  God  which  comes 
from  the  knowledge  of  self  and  from  one's  own 
experience. 

In  these  meditations  we  have  put  this  more 
intimate  knowledge  of  God  in  the  foreground. 
Devotional  literature  is  not  acceptable  to  the 
world,  because  it  speaks  from  and  in  behalf  of 
communion  of  saints  and  from  spiritual  experi- 
ence to  those  who  have  enjoyed  the  same,  or  at 
least  know  the  yearning  after  it.  But  we  have 
repeatedly  sounded  the  note  of  warning  against 
sentimental  emotionalism  in  this  sanctuary  of 
mysticism.    So  we  come  to  the  knowledge  of  God 

224 


from  nature,  not  that  we  might  interpret  it  in  a 
material  sense,  but  rather  that  we  might  weave 
it  into  our  spiritual  life. 

In  this  respect  also  the  erring  soul  frequently 
impoverishes  itself.  It  has  been  learned  by  heart, 
and  in  general  it  is  agreed,  that  Divine  attri- 
butes exhibit  themselves  in  the  works  of  nature. 
From  these  we  can  infer  that  God  is  great  in 
power,  in  wisdom  and  in  goodness.  But  now  that 
this  is  known,  we  are  through  with  the  book  of 
nature.  The  sum  of  the  knowledge  of  God,  which 
it  brought,  is  made  out.  So  the  book  is  put 
aside,  and  there  is  no  personal,  lasting  impression 
of  the  majesty  of  God  which  nature  was  intended 
to  convey.  No  one  looks  for  it.  No  account  is 
made  of  it.  And  there  is  almost  a  feeling  of 
impatience,  when  in  behalf  of  their  superficial 
religion  the  men  of  the  world  appeal  by  preference 
to  nature.  It  saddens  one  to  hear  it  said  with 
certain  exultation,  that  the  Church  has  served 
its  day,  that  the  Bible  has  lost  its  significance, 
and  that  there  is  a  far  richer  religious  joy  "in 
the  temple  of  uncut  wood." 

But  here  the  faithful  are  at  fault.  However 
much  they  deserve  praise  for  their  love  of  the 
Church  of  Christ,  and  however  precious  the 
treasures  are,  that  have  come  to  them  from  the 
Scripture,  they  should  not  have  been  indifferent 
to  the  fact,  that  we  are  equally  called  to  remember 
that  the  invisible  things  of  God,  from  the  creation 
of  the  world,  are  clearly  seen,  being  understood 
by  the  things  that  are  made,  i.  e.  from  nature, 
even  his  eternal  power  and  Godhead  (Rom.  1:20). 

There  are  three  progressive  stages  in  the  know- 
ledge of  God.     It  begins  with  nature,  it  goes  on 

225 


to  man  as  created  after  God's  Image,  and  finally 
is  made  perfect  in  Christ,  in  so  much  as  He  is 
the  express  Image  of  God's  Person.  And  these 
three  do  not  stand  loosely  side  by  side,  but 
form,  if  we  may  say  so,  a  climbing  pyramid. 
Nature  forms  the  broad  ground  surface,  it  ascends 
in  the  rich  unfolding  of  human  life,  and  reaches 
its  liighest  point  in  the  Incarnation  of  the  Eternal 
Word. 

Christ  is  not  clearly  seen,  nor  understood 
apart  from  the  knowledge  of  man,  and  man  is 
not  clearly  seen  and  understood  apart  from  a 
sympathetic  touch  upon  unconscious  .nature. 
Hence  the  faithful  should  always  live  under  the 
deep  impression  of  the  majesty  of  God  in  nature. 
Believers  must  live  the  life  of  mankind,  i.  e. 
history,  over  again  in  themselves.  Onlj^  thus 
can  they  obtain  the  clear,  full,  living  impression 
of  Christ,  who  reveals  God  to  them  in  the  riches 
of  his  grace. 

In  this  way  Almighty  God  began,  and  con- 
tinues until  now,  the  revelation  of  himself.  First 
in  unconscious  nature.  When  this  was  ended,  as 
a  richer  revelation  of  himself.  He  created  man 
after  his  own  image  and  likeness.  And  when 
man  had  corrupted  his  way,  and  in  part  had 
worked  out  sin  to  its  baneful  end,  as  the  richest 
revelation  of  himself,  God  sent  his  Son. 

These  three  links  of  the  holy  chain  perfectly 
fit  into  one  another.  First  there  is  the  material 
world.  In  this  world  of  matter  man  is  created 
from  dust.  And  in  our  flesh  and  blood  comes 
the  revelation  of  the  Son  of  God,  as  man. 

The  starting  point  here  is,  that  God  is  invisible. 
Let    us    understand    this    well.      In    himself    the 

226 


Eternal  Being  is  not  invisible,  and  we  are  de- 
finitely told  that  once  we  shall  see  God  face  to 
face.  We  shall  know  him,  even  as  we  are  known. 
Intellectual  knowledge,  and  even  spiritual  know- 
ledge is  not  the  highest.  The  highest  is  vision; 
clear,  immediate  sight.  Seeing  without  inter- 
medium; without  mirror;  seeing  essential  Being 
itself.  How  this  will  be  possible,  is  the  mystery 
of  the  life  to  come,  although  however  latent, 
the  organ  for  this  is  even  now  present  in  the  soul. 
It  is  not  given  us  to  use  it  in  the  present.  This 
is  the  dispensation  of  limitations,  of  the  finite, 
and  of  the  things  that  are  bound  to  form,  color 
and  dimensions.  And  since  God  is  not  limited, 
and  has  no  form,  dimension  nor  end,  He  is,  in 
this  dispensation,  the  Invisible  to  us.  There  is  no 
clear  vision  of  God  in  this  life.  The  question  was, 
how  in  this  life,  God  could  reveal  himself  to  us 
in  his  Majesty,  even  in  such  a  way  as  w^ould  cry- 
stalize  itself  as  a  clear  and  fixed  impression  in  us. 
And  God  has  realized  this  aim,  1st  by  revelation 
in  nature  of  his  Omnipotence  and  Divinity  in 
dimensions,  which  give  us  the  impression  of  the 
infinite,  even  through  we  know  they  are  finite; 
this  is  what  we  call  the  sublime;  2nd  by  the  im- 
print of  his  life  in  the  personal  existence  of  man, 
creating  him  after  His  image;  and  3rd  by  the 
restoration  in  full  of  this  ruined  and  broken  image, 
and  by  showing  it  to  us,  in  Christ. 

Hence  God  himself  is  in  and  behind  nature. 
Hence  nature  is  not  a  finished  work  of  art,  that 
exists  by  itself  outside  of  and  apart  from  God. 
But  God  himself  gives  us  to  see  and  to  hear  hia 
Majesty  in  the  starry  heavens  by  night,  in  the 
colors   of  light   by   day,  in  the   wonders   of   the 


vegetable  and  animal-world,  in  the  splendor  of 
the  sea,  in  the  roar  of  the  hurricane,  sometimes 
even  in  the  rolling  of  his  thunder.  In  all  this, 
is,  and  lives,  the  God  Whom  we  worship.  In  the 
throbbings  of  the  life  of  nature  throbs  his  own 
Divine  life.  Whatever  moves  in  creation,  flows 
through  it,  and  addresses  itself  to  us  from  it, 
is  the  inner  motion  of  God's  own  life.  All  nature 
is  nothing  else  than  a  living,  throbbing  veil 
back  of  which  God  hides  himself,  and  in  whose 
folds  and  undulations  he  reveals  Himself  to  us, 
clothed  with  Majesty.  In  the  profound  saying 
of  the  Apostle:  The  Invisible  God  is  not  only 
understood  in  nature,  but  is  also  clearly  seen. 
This  clear  sight  is  the  all-important  matter. 
Though  this  screen,  this  veil,  this  investiture  of 
nature,  God  must  be  seen  in  his  Omnipotence 
and  Divinity.  We  are  not  to  look  upon  nature 
as  upon  a  dead  palace  which  is  beautiful  by  rea- 
son of  its  vast  variety  of  lines  and  forms,  but 
we  must  feel  and  know,  that  standing  before  the 
firmament,  the  cloudy  heavens  and  the  varied 
scenes  of  earth,  we  stand  before  God.  That 
it  is  He  who  presents  himself  to  us  in  it  all, 
enters  into  us  through  it  all,  addresses  us  by  it 
all,  and  who  throughout  the  length  and  the 
breadth  of  it  all  gives  us  to  behold  the  workings 
of  the  fingers  of  his  Majesty.  It  is  God  who 
makes  the  lark  sing  for  us.  It  is  God  who  cleaves 
the  sea,  so  that  its  waters  foam.  It  is  God  who 
calls  forth  the  sun  from  his  tent,  and  at  even- 
tide directs  his  return  ti.ereto.  It  is  God  who 
every  evening  lights  the  twinkling  fires  in  the 
stars.  It  is  God  whose  voice  we  hear  in  the 
thunder.     And  only  he  who  in  all  this,  feels  the 

228 


very  life  of  God,  and  clearly  sees  in  it  all,  the 
Divinity  of  Omnipotence,  understands  the  glory 
of  the  Invisible. 


''AND  THE  SECOND  IS  LIKE 
UNTO  IT." 

God  is  invisible.  He  hides  himself  behind  the 
veil  of  nature.  But  the  folds  of  it  move  in 
undulations  and  in  vibrations,  frona  which  we 
preceive  that  God  behind  it,  is  close  by.  In 
everything  that  lives  in  nature,  rustles,  throbs, 
and  stirs  itself,  we  feel  the  pulsebeat  of  God's 
own  life.  The  Scripture  has  nothing  to  say  of  a 
dead  nature,  but  in  all  sorts  of  ways  it  makes 
us  watch  that  we  might  hear  ''the  voice  of  God" 
and  his  "footsteps"  in  nature.  When  the  earth 
trembles,  it  is  because  He  is  "wroth"  and  makes 
*'the  foundations  of  the  mountains  to  shake." 
In  the  darkened  firmament  "God  bows  the  heav- 
en and  comes  down."  In  the  whirlwind  "God 
rode  upon  a  cherub  and  flew."  When  "the  deep 
abysses  of  water"  foam,  it  is  God  who  ''rebukes" 
them  and  drives  them  forth  with  "the  blast 
of  his  nostrels."  The  flashes  of  lightning  are 
arrows,  which  He  shoots  forth  into  the  firmament. 
When  it  grows  dark  the  stars  appear,  because 
God  calls  them,  and  behold  not  one  faileth.  He 
drenches  the  mountains  from  his  heights.  He 
sends  forth  the  fountains,  so  that  they  walk 
among  the  hills.  He  makes  grass  to  grow  for 
beasts,  and  for  man  bread  to  come  up  from  the 
ground.  It  is  He  who  cleaves  the  sea,  so  that 
its  v/aves  foam.     And  he  whose  ear  is  spiritually 

229 


trained,  observes  how  God  as  his  good  shepherd 
goes  before  him  in  the  waj',  hears  the  sound  of 
God's  rod  and  staff  on  the  ground,  and  is  com- 
forted thereby. 

All  this  is  not  for  the  sake  of  giving  us  a  poetic, 
vivid  view  of  nature.  Heathen  poets  have  done 
this.  In  nature  also  everything  is  for  the  sake 
of  religion,  to  reveal  to  us  in  it  the  glorious 
presence  of  God,  to  bring  us  the  fostering  sense 
that  in  nature  everywhere  the  living  and  almighty 
God  is  with  us  on  every  side,  and  to  fill  us  with 
the  sublime  impression  of  his  Power,  Divinity 
and  Majesty. 

But  this  is  not  all.  This  self-same  living  God, 
who  in  nature  always  envelops  you  and  imposes 
his  presence  upon  you,  reveals  himself  altogether 
differently  and  far  more  richly  in  you  as  man, 
whom  He  has  appointed  as  lord  over  nature. 
The  revelation  of  his  life  in  man  is  so  wonder- 
fully divine,  that  after  having  said:  thou  shalt 
love  God  with  all  thy  heart,  with  all  thy  soul, 
with  all  thy  mind  and  with  all  thy  strength.  He 
transposes  this  great  commandment  into  an 
altogether  different  one:  thou  shalt  love  thy 
neighbor  as  thyself,  and  adds  to  this  second 
commandment,  that  it  is  like  unto  the  first;  that 
to  love  God  in  his  majesty  and  to  love  God  in 
one's  neighbor  is  one  and  the  selfsame  command- 
ment. To  love  God  in  God  himself  and  to  love 
God  in  man,  or  in  one's  neighbor,  dififers  in  form 
and  in  fulfillment,  but  as  commandment  it  is  one. 

Vagrant  wisdom  forces  the  representation  that 
from  dead  matter  gradually  the  plant  evolved 
of  itself,  presently  from  the  plant  of  itself  the 
animal,  and  finally  from  the  animal,  man.     This 

230 


wisdom  has  been  christened  with  the  name  of 
involution  and  Darwm  is  called  the  prophet  of  this 
new  evangel. 

This  whole  system  is  nothing  more  than  self- 
miatuation    of    unbelieving    thought.     But    there 
IS  this  truth  m  it,  that  the  whole  creation  seems 
to  have  been  built  up  as  a  temple  in  which  man 
should  serve  as  priest.     Everything  in  it  points 
to  man.     It  calls  for  man.     And  when  at  length 
man  appears  in  this  temple  of  nature,  everything 
that  went  before,  appears  to  have  served  merely 
as   preparation  for  his   coming.     Man  has   lustlv 
been  called  a  world  in  miniature.     The  creation 
on^y  finds  its  end  in  man.     Almighty  God  who 
hides  himself  in  nature  as  behind  a  veil,  makes 
personal  revelation  of  himself  in  man,  not   onlv 
m  his  power  and  majesty,  but,  what  is  far  greater 
as  bpirit.     In  man  there  is  self-perception,  clear 
consciousness    thinking    after   God    the    thoughts 
ot    God.   reye.ation   of  will,   thirst   after  holiness, 
the  spark  of  genius,  appreciation  of  the  beautiful 
premonition  of  eternal  existence,  the  resumption 
of  being  in  one  personal  existence,  the  imprinted 
mcreated  knowledge   of   the   Eternal   Being,   and 
all  this  is  m  him,  solely  and  alone  because  God 
created  him  after  his  iamge 

fK^f^u  ''I''  ^u°T  ""  niaster-builder  by  the  palace 
that  he  has  built,  a  poet  from  his  poetic  works. 
a  cogent  thinker  from  his  ^v^itings  But  the 
^fffCi'^'^f.^^  him  that  remains  is  altogether 
different,  after  you  have  seen  in  his  picture  the 
features  of  hs  face,  the  flaming  of  his  eve,  and 
the  expression  of  his  person  .    .       ^^ 

Such    is    the    case    here.     The    Divine    Master- 
builder  and  Artist  first  showed  his  works  in  nature 

231 


He  comes  a  second  time  and  shows  his  image  in 
man,  the  portrait  of  himself.  Not  in  one  individual. 
This  is  impossible.  But  in  man,  as  in  the  course 
of  centuries,  he  was  bqrn,  has  lived  and  has  died 
by  the  millions.  Among  these  millions  there  was 
the  hyssop  and  the  cedar.  In  these  occasional 
instances  of  mighty  personalities,  who  like  cedars 
have  stood  high  above  the  ordinary  rank  and 
file  of  men,  the  revelation  of  the  Being  of  God 
centered  itself  ever  more  clearly.  And  when 
you  take  all  the  virtues,  excellencies  and  rare 
capacities  together,  which  have  characterized  the 
best  and  noblest  of  the  sons  of  men,  the  grand 
and  overwhelming  sum-total  brings  a  revelation 
of  God,  which  far  exceeds  God's  self-revelation  in 
nature. 

This  is  still  the  case  now.  What  would  it  not 
have  been,  had  not  sin  marred  and  ruined  the 
features  of  the  Divine  Image  in  man?  Now 
there  is  distvu'bance.  The  mirror  in  which  the 
image  is  reflected  is  ruined  by  a  thousand  cracks; 
it  is  weather-beaten  and  blurred.  Parts  of  lines 
and  features  are  still  discernable,  but  no  more 
the  image  in  the  loveliness  of  its  unity,  nor  in 
the  clearness  of  its  tints.  And  when  even  so, 
this  image  still  interests  and  attracts,  and  ever 
and  anon  fills  "you  with  warm  sympathy,  what 
must  it  have  been  to  Adam,  when  in  Eve  he 
beheld  it  in  its  original  perfection,  and  how  deep 
must  have  been  the  fall  in  sin,  which  at  once  and 
irrevocably   marred  and  ruined  it. 

Experience  of  human  baseness  at  times  is  very 
disheartening,  and  makes  it  easier  to  become 
misanthropic  than  philanthropic.  But  from  the 
course  of  centuries  history  retains  what  was  best 

232 


in  human  nature,  and  bj'  its  magnilicent  revela- 
tion of  noble  human  lives  reconciles  us  again 
unto  man.  There  is  the  picture  gallery  of  history', 
of  the  heroes  in  common  life  and  of  the  heroes 
of  faith,  as  the  Apostle  declares:  (Heb.  12)  "we 
are  compassed  about  with  so  great  a  cloud  of 
witnesses,"  wherefore  we  should  lay  aside  every 
weight,  and  the  sin  which  doth  so  easily  beset  us." 
This  is  revelation  of  God  even  yet  in  fallen  man. 
And  if  love  awakens  in  you  real  drawing  love 
for  man  as  man,  it  is  in  virtue  of  the  glory  that  is 
seen  in  man,  the  glory  of  God  in  human  talent, 
in  human  genius  and  in  human  heroism,  pouring 
out  its  raj^s  in  human  love  towards  you. 

There  is  something  mysterious  in  your  own  self, 
which  is  attracted  by  something  equally  myster- 
ious in  another,  whereby  you  overlook  his  failings, 
forgive  his  sins,  disregard  social  differences,  and 
with  the  myterious  power  of  love  envelop  him  in 
the  hidden  parts  of  his  being.  And  though  this 
love  can  be  spoiled  and  become  itself  a  sin,  it 
is  in  love  for  one  who  loves  you,  that  the  warm 
glow  of  Divine  sympathy  overpowers  your  heart, 
and  the  mystery  of  love  in  the  Being  of  God 
reveals  itself  to  you. 

At  first  it  is  a  matter  of  choice.  In  it  beginnings 
love  is  limited,  narrow-hearted  and  repellant  to 
others;  a  gleam  of  light,  which  casts  correspond- 
ingly the  darker  indifference  for  others  as  a  deep 
shadow  round  about  itself.  This  continues  as  long 
as  love  is  still  held  in  the  meshes  of  selfishness. 
It  is  love  from  God,  but  it  is  not  as  yet  love  for 
the  sake  of  God.  Love  for  a  few  whom  we  deem 
worthy  of  our  love,  but  it  is  not  yet  love  for  the 
neighbor,  i.  e.  for  man  as  man,  a  creature  of  God 

233 


created  after  the  Image  of  God.  But  the  Spirit 
purifies  this  love.  Love  for  man  must  be  hke 
the  love  for  God.  There  must  be  no  di£ference 
between  these  two,  or  else  the  love  for  man  will 
detract  from  the  love  for  God  in  the  heart. 

Thus  it  becomes  more  and  more  a  process  of 
distinction.  Love  of  whatever  of  God  there  is 
in  man.  Likewise  hate  of  whatever  of  the  Evil 
One  there  is  in  man,  with  the  serious  purpose  of 
love  to  oppose  it,  until  it  is  gone  from  his  heart. 
This  is  the  way  to  discover  whatever  of  God, 
hidden  and  latent  through  it  be,  still  glows  in 
other  men's  hearts,  to  encourage  this  spark  and 
not  to  tolerate  its  extinction.  Until  at  length 
this  neighborly  love  reaches  down  to  the  latest 
trace,  which  in  eveiy  man  on  this  side  of  the 
grave,  even  in  those  who  have  most  deeply  fallen, 
still  reminds  us  of  his  creation  after  the  Image 
of  God,  and  of  the  possibility  of  its  restoration. 
Even  as  the  lover  of  choice  porcelains  gathers  with 
great  care  the  shards  of  the  broken  dish  because 
he  appreciates  their  worth  in  the  possible  case 
of  their  being  glued  together  again.  But  even  so 
your  love  for  your  neighbor  has  become  nothing 
else  than  love  for  whatever  of  God  there  still 
remains  in  him.  The  second  commandment  is 
like  unto  the  first. 

45    ' 

"THE  IMAGE  OF  THE 
INVISIBLE  GOD." 

God   is  a   Spirit.     God  is  Invisible.     But   with 
increasing    clearness    He    reveals    himself.     There 
are    glimmerings   through    and   back   of   the   veil 
284 


of  nature.  In  man,  who  is  created  after  his  Image, 
he  becomes  more  transparent.  He  is  faliy  seen  in 
Christ,  who  is  the  express  Image  of  his  Person, 
the  Image  of  the  Invisible  God  (Col.  1:15). 
Image  and  not  picture.  What  has  been  sculptured 
conveys  more  reality,  than  what  has  been  pic- 
ured  jn  lines  and  tints.  It  gives  the  full  appear- 
ance. In  marble  or  in  metal  the  image  imitates 
the  massive  form  of  life.  The  picture  that  is 
drawn  with  the  pencil  or  painted  with  the  brush 
conveys  in  turn  warmth  of  life,  glow  of  soul  and 
mobilitj^  of  features,  which  cold  stubborn  marble 
refuses  to  express.  But  the  image  is  more  im- 
pressive. It  is  overwhelming  by  reason  of  its 
greater  reality  and  almost  tangibility. 

The  Scripture  therefore  does  not  speak  of  the 
portrait,  but  of  the  image  of  God,  who  is  invisible, 
and  in  this  expression  the  whole  action  of  religion 
centers  itself.  God  gives  his  image.  Man  cornipts 
it.  Man  himself  wants  to  make  an  image  of  God. 
This  is  a  heinous  sin.  In  the  end  sin  reaches  its 
utmost  height,  when  Satan,  as  the  Beast,  the 
Man  of  Sin,  the  Antichrist,  erects  an  image  of 
himself,  and  demands  the  worship  for  it,  which 
is  due  alone  to  the  *' express  image  of  God's  person" 
i.  e.  Christ. 

This  revelation  of  God  is  not  to  be  taken  in 
a  figurative  or  metaphorical  sense.  On  the  con- 
trary it  is  supernatural  reality.  Hence  the  saying 
of  Jesus  to  Philip:  "He  that  hath  seen  me.  hath 
seen  the  Father".  (John  14:9)  and  hence  the  hope 
of  glorv'  for  every  child  of  God.  that  once  he  also 
shall  see  Christ  as  he  is,  and  that  in  seeing  the 
glorified  Christ  he  shall  see  God  himself  face  to 
face.     He  shall  not  see  Christ  and  afterwards  and 


alongside  of  him  see  God,  but  he  shall  see  God 
in  Christ.  In  the  iinregenerate.  sin  has  made  the 
image  of  God  unrecognizable.  In  Christ  God  gives 
his  image  in  all  its  ifullness  and  perfect  clearness. 
This  was  possible  in  our  human  nature,  because 
the  Son  was  the  Image  of  the  Father  from  all 
eternity,  and  as  bj'  the  shadow  of  this  Image  our 
human  nature  was  formed  from  the  dust  of  the 
earth.  He  therefore  who  rests  content  with  the 
revelation  of  God  in  nature,  depressed  as  it  is  by 
the  curse,  or  he  who  rests  content  with  the  revela- 
tion of  God  in  the  natural  man,  who  is  dead  in 
sin,  can  not  come  to  the  true  knowledge  of  God. 
but  must  of  necessitv  fall  away  into  idolatry  or 
false  philosophy,  ''No  man  knoweth  the  Father, 
save  the  Son,  and  he  to  whomsoever  the  Son  will 
reveal  him"  (Mat.  11:27). 

Christ  therefore  remains  the  center  of  our  Divine 
worship,  not  only  by  what  he  spake,  by  what  he 
did,  or  what  he  suffered,  but  through  his  own  Per- 
sonal Self.  The  glory  of  the  apostles  lies  in  what 
they  have  heard,  and  seen  and  handled  of  the 
Word  of  life.  Christ  is  not  only  the  chief  est  among 
the  prophets,  and  the  Head  of  the  apostles,  He  is 
himself  the  personal  embodiment  of  everything 
that  is  comprehended  in  the  glory  of  our  religion. 
"In  him  dwelleth  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead 
bodily."  We  name  ourselves  after  Him.  Salva- 
tion is  given  us  in  his  name.  From  his  Person 
and  Name  has  gono  forth  the  regenerating,  life- 
renewing  power,  which  has  changed  the  fashion 
of  this  world.  True  Christianity  is  only  where 
he  is  woi'shipped.  He  rules  not  merely  bv  the 
tradition  of  what  he  once  was,  spake,  did  and 
endured,  but  by  a  real  power,  which  even  now, 

236 


seated  as  he  is  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  he 
exercises  over  lands  and  nations,  generations, 
famihes  and  individuals.  The  course  of  the  world's 
history  and  the  final  destiny  of  every  individual 
life  decides  for  him  or  against  him.  In  loyal  sub- 
jection to  him,  the  world  will  rejoice  in  peace, 
turned  against  him,  it  will  be  troubled,  and  will 
continue  to  be  troubled,  until  it  either  returns  to 
him,  or  in  rebellion  against  him  works  out  its  own 
destruction. 

And  therefore  every  effort  to  weaken  the 
Christian  religion  and  to  detach  it  from  Christ, 
or  to  mingle  it  with  philosophic  and  heathen 
inventions  must  result  in  spiritual  and  moral 
retrogression.  He  who  in  am^  wise  puts  the 
supreme  name  of  Christ  on  a  line  with  that  of 
Buddha,  Confucius  or  Mohammed,  undermines 
the  Christian  religion,  and  all  religion,  together 
with  the  happy  development  of  mankind,  since 
it  all  leads  away  from  the  knowledge  of  God, 
falsifies  it,  and  hastens  its  loss.  And  while  to 
know  God  is  itself  eternal  life,  to  be  enjoyed 
here  and  in  the  hereafter,  all  alienation  from 
Christ,  all  beclouding  of  his  Name  is  no  search 
after  life,  but  after  death. 

Seeking  Christ  for  the  sake  of  salvation  is  the 
beginning.  But  he  who  understands  what  salva- 
tion is,  will  for  its  sake  cultivate  the  knowledge 
of  God.  Of  a  truth  Christ  is  the  surety  that  once 
the  soul  will  be  free  from  sin;  the  guarantee  that 
no  guilt  of  sin  will  any  more  distress  us;  the 
promise  that  once  the  body  will  be  restored  in 
glory;  and  no  less  the  hope  of  a  home  in  the 
Fathers'  house  of  many  mansions;  of  sacred  joy 
in    the    realm    of    eternal    light,    and    of    endless 

237 


fellowship  with  all  the  saints  of  God;  in  brief, 
of  an  inheritance  that  w^ill  provide  what  no  ear 
has  heard,  no  eye  has  seen,  and  has  not  entered 
the  heart  of  man.  But  all  this  is  yet  nothing 
else  than  the  glory  of  the  palace  and  of  those 
who  may  enter  therein.  But  the  glory  of  salva- 
tion is  found  in  God  alone.  To  own  God;  to 
know  him  with  clear-sighted  understanding;  in 
humble  w^orship  to  fellowship  with  him;  that 
alone  is  the  heart  and  the  soul  of  everlasting 
salvation. 

Hence  there  is  salvation  in  Christ  both  because 
he  delivers  you  from  sin,  and  because  he 
guarantees  the  inheritance  among  the  saints  in 
light.  But  salvation  in  Christ  is  realized  in  full 
only  when  in  him,  as  the  Image  of  the  invisible 
God,  you  lay  hold  on  God  himself,  and  in  the 
knowledge  of  God.  which  radiates  from  this  Image, 
you  imbibe  eternal  life.  Salvation  is  not  prepared 
by  Christ,  brought  down  to  us  by  him,  and  into 
which  he  shall  once  lead  his  own,  in  order  that, 
when  all  is  done,  he  may  retire  from  the  scene. 
On  the  contrary,  there  would  be  no  salvatioD 
even  in  the  realm  of  glor>%  if  Christ  would  not 
be  forever  there,  as  the  One  in  whom  God  can  be 
seen  and  known  and  enjoyed. 

But  this  does  not  tarry  until  we  come  to  the 
house  of  the  Father  on  high.  In  the  heavenly 
life  our  knowledge  of  God  will  be  made  perfect, 
but  it  is  begun  here.  We  have  no  bare  promise 
of  future  revelation,  but  there  is  a  revelation  of 
God  in  Christ  now  within  our  reach.  The  Image 
of  God  in  Christ  is  sketched  for  us  upon  the 
sacred  page.  God  is  a  Spirit,  and  this  self-revela- 
tion of  God  in  the  eternal  AVord  is  expressed  for 

238 


us  in  the  written  Word.  Atfer  his  ascension  also 
Christ  lives  in  the  Word.  With  it  the  portrait  of 
God's  Image  has  gone  out  into  the  world.  Its 
presence  lives  among  us.  Thanks  to  the  Word 
we  are  so  familiar  with  the  person  and  appearance 
of  Christ,  that  he  walks  with  us  by  the  way.  As 
he  moved  among  the  people  of  his  times,  the 
imagination  brings  him  into  our  own  surroundings. 
And  we  take  his  word  of  the  long  ago  to  our- 
selves, as  through  he  speaks  personally  to  us  for 
admonition,   encouragement   and   comfort. 

There  is  moreover  not  only  a  portrait  of  Christ 
in  the  written  Word,  but  powers,  operations  and 
influences  have  gone  forth  from  him,  w^hich  have 
kindled  fire  in  the  human  breast  and  have  inspired 
love,  holy  resolves  and  spiritual  consecration,  in 
all  ages  to  this  day,  the  thought  of  which  uplifts 
and  cheers,  and  as  it  were,  brings  close  the  very 
breath  of  Christ  to  us.  All  this  is  not  merely 
the  passive  result  of  his  appear'ance  twenty 
centuries  ago,  but  in  sober  fact  it  is  daily  fed  and 
nourished  by  himself,  and  from  him  makes  its 
appeal  to  us.  Every  soul  that  is  bom  anew, 
every  holy  thought  that  comes  into  the  mind, 
every  good  work  which  we  are  enabled  to  do,  is 
all  the  work  of  Christ  through  the  wondrous 
indwelling  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  He  would  come 
and  take  up  his  abode  with  us.  And  He  is  come, 
and  still  comes  every  day  and  every  night  to 
confirm  this  indwelling  in  the  congregation  of  the 
saints.  He  knows  and  calls  us  by  name  and  adapts 
himself  to  the  needs  of  the  heart.  And  so  he,  who 
is  the  Image  of  the  Invisible  God,  holds  himself 
before  us,  continues  in  us  the  work  once  begun, 
and  through  ebb  and  flood  tides  makes  the  ocean 

239 


of  God's  unfathomable  mercies  glisten  ever  more 
gloriously. 

Thus  there  is  a  knowledge  of  God  which  we 
learn  and  derive  from  Christ.  But  there  is  a 
far  greater  knowledge  of  God  which  He  himself 
imparts,  which  He  brings,  and  makes  fully  clear 
to  us  in  the  hidden  parts  of  the  soul.  The 
mystical  part  of  it  is,  that  he  who  is  the  Image  of 
the  invisible  God,  not  only  shows  us  this  image, 
and  fascinates  us  with  it,  but  he  chisels  this  image 
in  us.  Our  inner  life  is  made  conformable  to  the 
inner  life  of  Christ.  His  image  is  imprinted  upon 
the  saints  of  God.  The  highest  knowledge  of  God 
that  we  can  obtain  in  the  earth  is,  when  the  image 
of  God  in  Christ  renews  the  image  of  God  in  us. 

46 

''HALLOWED  BE  THY  NAME." 
True  knowledge  of  God  does  not  come  from 
storing  the  memory.  It  only  becomes  this  when 
it  finds  its  startingpoint  in  the  things,  which  the 
soul  inwardly  discerns  and  experiences.  Every- 
thing here  must  go  out  from  personal  contact 
between  us  and  God.  There  is  no  knowledge  of 
light  possible  for  one  who  was  bom  blind.  And 
as  long  as  we  do  not  perceive  and  discover  God 
in  ourselves,  and  are  consciously  affected  by  work- 
ings that  go  out  from  him,  true  knowledge  of  God 
is  impossible.  This  is  not  felt  by  the  sense  of  touch, 
but  in  our  own  immediate  spiritual  perception, 
so  that  not  from  reasoning,  and  not  from  what 
others  have  told  us,  but  immediately  from  our  own 
selves  we  know  that  God  is  and  that  God  is  great. 
In  times  when  defence  of  the   faith  called  for 

240 


heroic  sacrifice,  our  fathers  steadily  held  this  in 
front.  They  insisted  on  the  fact  that  God  had 
implanted  the  sence  of  himself  in  man  (sensiis 
divinitatis),  and  that  this  was  the  seed  of  all 
religion  (semen  religionis).  But  when  persecution 
ceased,  this  real  spiritual  background  of  all  true 
knowledge  of  God  was  wantonly  forsaken,  and 
far  too  much  place  was  given  to  intellectual 
abstractions.  Abstract  knowledge  of  the  true  God 
superceded  the  knowledge  which  is  eternal  life, 
with  the  necessary  result  that  book-learning 
supplanted  true  godliness,  and  that  the  life  of  the 
church  become  enervated  and  weak. 

The  Church  stood  not  alone  in  this.  The  retreat 
from  reality  to  the  paper-world  of  abstract  inven- 
tions of  the  mind  became  noticeable  in  every 
department  of  the  higher  life.  Even  art,  and 
with  it  poetry,  became  at  length  infected  with 
this  evil  virus.  Forms,  words,  phrases,  rhymes 
and  poetastry  took  the  place  of  golden  speech, 
which  springs  up  from  the  fountain  of  life  itself. 
This  was  inevitably  followed  by  an  equally  one- 
sided reaction,  which  brought  nothing  but  emo- 
tions, simple  impressions,  pure  sensations,  with 
the  necessary  result  that  the  consciousness  was 
dimmed,  inner  perceptions  became  vague,  thought 
became  confused  and  utterances  chaotic.^  Such 
was  the  case  in  poetry  and  literature,  and  such 
also  in  religion.  Nothing  remained  except  percep- 
tions, sensations  and  impressions,  which  with  un- 
believers led  to  a  return  to  polytheism,  and  made 
believers  lose  themselves  in  sentimental  Mj'Sticism. 

For  let  it  be  well  understood,  all  tihis  is 
dominated,  in  every  domain,  including  that  of 
religion,  by  strong  currents  in  all  of  human  life. 

241 


Things  are  only  right  when  the  workings  of  the 
emotions  and  of  the  intellect  unite  in  proper 
equipoise  and  in  pure  harmony.  But  sin  can  not 
tolerate  this.  It  continuall}^  breaks  the  equipoise 
and  banishes  harmony,  so  that  first,  there  is  a 
time  when  the  intellect  kills  the  feeling,  and  then 
there  is  a  period  when  the  feeling  sentences  the 
intellect  to  silence.  And  in  the  face  of  it  all. 
it  is  ever  the  sacred  calling  of  preaching  to  form 
just  estimates  of  every  abuse,  and  to  jealously 
urge  the  restoration  of  equipoise  and  of  pure 
harmony. 

In  these  meditations  on  the  knowledge  of  God. 
we  have  first  considered,  therefore,  the  working  of 
the  hidden  fellowship  from  every  side.  We  have 
seen  what  the  imagination,  inspiration,  the  work- 
ing of  the  will,  love,  the  impressions  obtained 
from  nature,  from  man,  and  finally  from  Christ, 
contribute  to  the  true  knowledge  of  God.  The 
reality  of  the  secret  walk  with  God  had  first  to 
be  made  palpable.  This  was  done  the  more  easily 
because  it  harmonizes  with  the  trend  of  the  age. 

Emphasizing  the  reality  of  inner  sensations 
agrees  with  current  notions  of  the  times.  Barren 
trifling  with  ideas  in  religion  has  at  length  also 
repelled  the  common  mind.  Men  crave  the  things 
that  caji  be  felt  and  handled  and  immediately  en- 
joyed, and  that  can  pleasantly  affect  the  entire 
personality.  But  it  would  be  an  unpardonable 
fault,  which  would  soon  avenge  itself,  if  this  were 
all.  The  Scripture  does  not  allow  it.  The  Church 
enters  its  protest  against  it.  Every  child  of  God 
asks  for  more. 

In  Scripture  the  significance  of  the  name  is 
profound    and    far-reaching.     The    name    of    the 

242 


Lord  calls  us  out  from  the  flood  of  emotions  to 
higher  and  clearer  consciousness.  The  feeling 
is  a  gift  of  God.  but  the  gift  of  consciousness 
as  a  feature  of  the  image  of  God  in  us  far  excels 
it.  Feeling  can  do  no  more  than  furnish  the 
material  which  the  consciousness  thinks  upon, 
classifies  and  transposes  into  clearness  of  form. 
Even  the  plant  is  sensitive.  In  an  animal  feel- 
ing is  sometimes  exceedingly  fine.  But  neither 
plant  nor  animal  received  the  glorious  capacity 
of  the  higher  consciousness,  which  enables  man 
to  take  in  everj'thing.  to  sciiitinize  and  to  estimate 
things  in  their  significance,  to  appreciate,  and  to 
mirror  them  in  his  own  thought.  Consciousness 
makes  man  a  King.  In  feeling  he  suffers  and 
endures. 

Consciousness  has  all  sorts  of  forms.  A  form 
for  art.  A  form  for  the  moral,  and  a  form  for 
the  religious  life.  But  of  all  these  forms  it  is 
always  consciousness  first,  in  which  man  finds 
himself  back  again,  becomes  capable  of  mighty 
action,  and  lifts  himself  up  to  the  spheres  of 
the  eternal  Word.  One-sided  absorption  in 
mysticism  has  therefore  always  ended  in  degene- 
ration. Hence  the  Church  must  ever  and  anon 
send  out  the  sacred  summons  to  elevate  the  trea- 
sure of  our  religion  to  the  height  of  our  con- 
sciousness. Mysticism  without  more  is  darkness, 
and   chaos.     In   our  consciousness  is  the   light. 

In  behalf  of  the  knowledge  of  God  this  light 
is  first  kindled  b}'  the  Name  of  the  Lord.  This 
is  at  once  understood,  when  on  our  kness  before 
the  Eternal,  we  first  address  him  in  general  as 
God.  and  then  proceed  to  call  him  Abba,  Father. 
He  who  in  addressing  God  quietly,  with  emphasis 

243 


and  attention  calls  him:  My  dear  Father,  per- 
ceives at  once,  that  by  this  name  a  world  of 
thought  passes  through  his  heart,  and  that  from 
the  high  and  holy  places  God  comes  nearer  to 
the  soul.  The  name  is  what  I  call  someone,  and 
I  can  only  name  him  whom  I  know.  The  name 
is  immediately  connected  with  the  knowledge  of 
the  person.  It  is  the  summary  in  a  single  word 
of  what  comes  before  me  in  the  person.  And 
though  our  human  names  are  thread-worn,  so 
that  they  no  longer  express  anything,  yet  we  look 
differently  upon  the  man  whom  we  hear  addressed 
by  name,  than  upon  the  stranger  who  passes  us 
in  the  street. 

This  can  be  applied  to  God  in  a  far  higher 
^ense,  in  so  much  as  the  Name  of  the  Lord  is  the 
expression  of  his  Being.  Call  him  by  the  covenant 
name  of  Jehovah,  by  the  patriachical  name  of 
God  Almighty,  as  child  call  him  Father,  or  adr 
dress  him  by  the  full  name  of  Father,  Son  and 
Holy  Ghost,  and  the  Name  always  expresses  the 
being.  God's  name  is  no  human  invention.  God 
has  given  it  to  himself  and  has  revealed  it  unto 
us.  It  conveys  to  us  a  summary  knowledge  of 
God,  and  brings  him  closer  to  us.  It  carries  him 
into  our  consciousness,  and  explains  him  to  us. 

Without  the  Name  of  the  eternal  Being,  relig- 
ion and  idolatry  merge  into  one  another;  every- 
thing terminates  in  a  dark  religious  perception; 
the  ocean  of  polytheism  presents  itself  to  us; 
and  personal  knowledge  of  the  personal  God  is 
more  and  more  lost.  But  with  the  Name  of  the 
Lord,  distinction  presents  itself.  Antithesis  be- 
comes plain  between  false  and  true  religion.  We 
come  personally  to  stand  before  the  personal  God, 

244 


and  learn  to  know  with  whom  we  have  to  do. 
provided  alwa3^s  that  we  do  not  allow  this  Name  to 
run  dead  in  empty  sound.  Sin  also  accounts  for 
this.  The  ''Our  Father"  is  said  without  any 
thought  of  him,  or  of  what  the  Father  name  im- 
plies, as  though  it  were  a  dead  term.  It  is  the 
curse  of  custom,which  by  continuous  repetition 
dulls  the  spiritual  consciousness.  Thus  there  is 
hasty,  thoughtless  and  senseless  use  of  sacred 
sounds,  until  in  a  moment  of  seriousness  you  turn 
in  upon  yourself,  reverently  repeat  these  holy 
names  putting  your  soul  into  them,  and  you  be- 
come surprised  at  the  riches  that  glisten  in  them. 
When  this  becomes  the  case,  the  Name  of  the 
Lord  is  a  torch  that  is  lighted  in  the  conscious- 
ness, and  from  the  darkness  of  the  emotions, 
gradually  and  of  itself  the  liidden  being  of  God 
looms  up  before  j^ou  with  ever  increasing  clear- 
ness. Then  you  stand  personally  before  God. 
and  his  Name  always  explains  as  much  of  his 
being,  as  at  that  moment  the  heart  needs.  And 
thus  thoughtful  consciousness  can  not  and  must 
not  be  content  with  stammering  the  Name.  For 
then  the  name  becomes  the  occasion  for  think- 
ing out  what  it  implies,  and  for  explaining  God 
as  far  as  possible  to  the  consciousness.  Not 
every  one  can  do  this  equally  well.  The  capacity 
of  the  consciousness  to  absorb  is  very  limited 
with  one,  and  wonderfully  great  with  another. 
Indeed  there  is  no  advance  save  as  each  one 
acquires  knowledge  of  God  according  to  the  mea- 
sure of  his  consciousness.  That  we  should  in  this 
wise  acquire  knowledge  of  the  things  of  the 
world,  and  of  the  several  departments  of  science, 
and  that  with  respect  to  the  Name  of  the  Lord 

245 


we  should  neglect  the  same,  can  never  be  allowed. 
The  name  of  the  Lord  must  be  hallowed.  In- 
difference with  respect  to  this  is  irreconcilably- 
opposed  to  the  hallowing  of  God's  Name. 

47 

''THE  NAME  OF  THE  FATHER,  AND 

OF  THE  SON,  AND  OF  THE 

HOLY  GHOST." 

In  our  intercourse  with  the  world  and  with 
society,  intimacy  is  wonderfully  deepened  by  the 
permission  of  calling  a  person  by  name.  This 
intimacy  becomes  closer  still,  when  the  family 
name  gives  place  to  the  baptismal  name.  Child- 
ren do  not  know  this  transition.  Rules  of  polite- 
ness onl}'  come  in  force  when  the  shoes  of  child- 
hood have  been  outgrown.  These  rules  but  intend 
to  heighten  the  unconventionality  of  childlife, 
and  to  elevate  it  to  nobler  forms,  which  purposely 
create  a  certain  distance  betw-een  man  and  man, 
and  allow  individuals  to  develop  themselves  more 
freely.  When  in  later  years,  however,  closer 
acquaintance  leads  to  friendship,  or  association 
in  a  common  pursuit  lessens  the  distance,  and 
titles  fall  away,  and  for  the  first  time  we  call  one 
another  by  name,  the  method  of  intercouree 
modifies  itself  entirely.  We  feel  ourselves  at  once 
drnwn  closer  together,  and  it  seems  that  mutual 
confidence  but  waits  the  chance  to  reveal  itself. 

As-  a  rule,  the  higher  the  station  of  the  person 
who  allows  us  to  call  him  by  name,  the  greater 
the  leap  from  the  estrangement  to  the  more  confi- 
dential intercourse.  It  is  great  indeed  when  we 
call  a  man  by  his  family  name.  It  is  greatest 
when    we    address    him    by    his    personal    name. 

246 


Another  difiference  is,  that  among  women,  even 
as  with  children,  the  personal,  baptismal  name 
is  used,  and  almost  never  the  family  name,  while 
among  men  as  a  rule  the  family  name  is  in 
vogue,  and  the  use  of  the  personal  name  indicates 
a  far  higher  degree  of  intimacy.  While  at  length 
in  family  life  every  more  dignified  title  falls  away, 
and  the  use  of  the  family-  name  has  no  meaning, 
but  everything  hinges  on  the  baptismal  name,  or 
passes  over  into  an  entirely  other  sort  of  names, 
which  express  the  relation  which  one  sustains 
to  the  other.  Until  finally  we  come  to  the  mother- 
and  father-name,  and  we  speak  of  husband  and 
wife,  and  parents  say:  my  child.  These  names 
of  common  use  in  the  family  are  more  than  sounds. 
They  express  something  essential  in  the  mutual 
relationships.  They  are  somewhat  on  a  par  with 
the  names  we  give  to  a  physician,  clergyman,  or 
sexton,  which  indicate  that  we  do  not  mean 
their  person  but  their  office.  But  while  with 
the  latter  these  persons,  and  the  relation  in 
wliich  they  stand  to  us,  separate  themselves, 
the  father-name,  the  mother-name  and  the  name 
of  ''my  child"  contain  this  excellent  trait,  that  they 
express  simultaneously^  both  the  persons  and  the 
relationships,  and  that  in  this  way  they  indicate 
the  highest  that  a  name  can  express.  If  then 
after  these  observations  we  address  God  as  Our 
Father  or  as  Abba,  dear  Father,  we  appreciate 
more  fully  than  before,  the  supreme  privilege 
which  this  Father-name  confers  upon  a  child  of 
God. 

The  names  by  which  we  seek  to  indicate  the 
Eternal,  are  not  all  equally  intimate.  The  vague 
name    of    God   brings   no   approach.     The    mere 


word  God  indicates  a  highly-exalted  Being,  that 
far  transcends  mankind.  But  by  itself  it  has  no 
meaning.  It  is  exclusive  and  reveals  nothing. 
It  does  not  indicate  a  single  relationship.  It 
only  becomes  significant  and  vital,  when  we  put 
the  word  my  before  it.  and  speak  of  ''my  God", 
or  of  the  "Covenant-God". 

The  same  applies  to  the  name:  the  most 
High.  In  Scripture  we  find  it  used  in  circles  out- 
side of  Israel.  It  occurs  in  connection  with 
Melchizedek,  with  Nebuchadnezzar,  Isaiah  14:14, 
in  the  heathen  world  where  Daniel  dwelt,  and  with 
good  and  bad  angels.  In  Ps.  82:6  angels  are  called: 
children  of  the  most  High.  Gabriel  speaks  of 
the  power  of  the  Highest  that  shall  overshadow 
Mar>'.  Demons  likewise  call  Jesus:  Thou  Son  of 
God,  most  High  (Luke  8:28).  This  is  but  natural. 
This  name  of  the  most  High  merely  indicates  that 
our  God  is  exalted  far  above  all  created  things. 
But  it  is  not  a  name  that  brings  him  closer  to  us, 
or  that  initiates  one  into  his  secret  fellowship. 

It  is  altogether  different  when  God  reveals  him- 
self as  the  Almighty,  as  Jehovah  and  as  Lord.  The 
patriarchs  were  permitted  to  call  Him  the  Mighty 
God.  This  indicates  protection,  a  refuge  in  time 
of  trouble,  surety  of  the  given  promise,  a  party 
to  the  Covenant,  who  will  break  everj'  form  of 
opposition  in  our  behalf.  Hence  the  rich  develop- 
ment of  this  name  in  the  manifold  references  to 
God  as  our  high  tower,  our  Refuge,  our  Rock; 
as  of  a  God  in  whose  tent  we  may  dwell,  and  who 
is  our  hidding-place.  It  is  all  the  unfolding  of 
this  one  idea :  God  is  the  Almighty  One,  who 
watches  over  us  to  bless  us. 

The  same  is  true  of  the  Jehovah  name.     This 

248 


also  is  no  hollow  sound,  but  an  expression  of  the 
Being  of  God;  even  of  that  in  him  which  we 
need  for  our  comfort  in  the  midst  of  these  chang- 
ing scenes  of  life.  Everything  about  us  comes 
and  goes.  We  ourselves  change  continuously 
with  every  changing  thing  around  us.  Scarcely 
has  spring  given  way  to  summer,  before  autumn 
is  at  hand  to  pass  on  into  the  winter-sleep  of 
death.  This  antagonizes  our  inner  being,  which 
calls  for  immortality;  which  longs  to  remain  like 
unto  itself,  and  which  at  the  bar  of  its  own  con- 
sciousness maintains  in  old  age  identity  with  the 
self  of  the  child.  But  this  change  around  us  and 
within  us  ceaselessly  goes  on.  There  is  nothing 
sure.  It  is  all  as  the  rocking  of  waves,  on  which 
we  are  rocked  and  irresistibly  driven  along.  And 
in  the  midst  of  this  restless  ocean  the  wonderful 
name  of  Jehovah:  I  am  that  I  am,  is  the  revela- 
tion of  the  enduring,  the  abiding,  the  eternal,  the 
unchangeable,  and  becomes  one  with  the  name  of 
Rock.  Thus  the  result  of  this  name-revelation 
is,  that  he  to  whom  Jehovah  has  shown  grace,  and 
who  himself  has  laid  hold  on  Jehovah,  has  in 
God  the  fixed  point,  from  whence  he  defies  the 
restless  tossing  of  the  waters  on  the  sea  of  life, 
and  lays  hold  on  eternity  itself  in  the  God  whom 
he  worships.  To  know  Jehovah  it  to  have  eternal 
life. 

The  same  is  the  case  with  the  name:  Lord.  He 
who  only  speaks  of  God  says  nothing  of  the 
relation  in  which  he  stands  to  Him.  But  he  who 
says:  Lord,  our  God,  or  God  the  Lord,  bears 
witness  to  a  relation  which  he  sustains  to  the 
Eternal  Being.  He  is  His  property  and  servant 
From  him  he  expects  orders  and  ordinances.     He 

249 


acknowledges  that  he  should  live  for  God,  because 
God  is  his  Lord,  so  that  he  exists  solely  and 
alone  for  the  sake  of  God. 

In  this  revelation  of  the  Name,  the  love  of 
God  that  sought  us  and  drew  us,  has  made  still 
further  progress.  Israel  was  taught  to  know  the 
Father-name,  which  is  by  no  means  revealed 
for  the  first  time  in  the  New  Testament.  When 
God  said  to  Malachi:  If  then  I  am  a  Father, 
where  is  mine  honor?  this  one  saying  clearly 
shows  that  the  sense  and  significance  of  the 
Father-name  was  well-kno^^^l  in  Israel.  Even  the 
antithesis  with  the  child  was  understood  in  it. 
Or  was  it  not  said  of  David:  I  shall  be  to  him 
a  Father.  And  he  shall  be  to  me  a  son.  Every 
one  feels  that  in  the  Father-name  the  Eternal 
Being  comes  close  to  us.  It  is  as  though  all 
distance  falls  away,  and  as  though  by  this  name 
God  himself  invites  us  to  warm  confidence,  close 
fellowship  and  intimate  communion.  The  mother- 
name  would  have  done  this  still  more  tenderly, 
but  not  so  significantly,  because  the  mother-name 
is  more  closely  associated  with  childhood  and 
early  youth,  while  the  father-name  embraces  all 
of  life.  The  Father-name  of  God  moreover  includes 
both  the  tenderness  of  the  mother-name  and  the 
energetic  confidentiality  of  the  father-name. 
"Though  a  mother  may  forget  her  sucking  child, 
yet  will  I  not  forget  thee.  (Is.  49:15) 

The  inner  religious  life  awakens  in  all  its  rich- 
ness and  fullness  only  at  the  sound  of  the  Father- 
name.  For  now  there  is  family  life,  continuous 
dwelling  with  God,  the  outpouring  of  the  heart, 
the  holding  of  oneself  fast  by  God  in  confidence 
and   love,   in  the   fellowship   of  prayer  and   in   a 

250 


tenderness,  which  no  longer  hides  anything.  More 
yet,  the  Father-name  includes  the  name  of  the 
child.  With  the  Abba  Father  comes  the  surpris- 
ing discover>^  that  one  is  himself  a  child  of  God, 
and  with  it  is  disclosed  the  nobility  of  our  race, 
the  royal  exaltation  above  everything  that  sur- 
rounds us  in  the  unconscious  creation,  and  the 
thought  which  tranforms  all  of  life,  that  this  is 
not  our  real  life,  for  that  our  real  life  is  with 
and  by  and  in  our  God. 

With  this  the  last  step  is  made  possible.  And 
at  length  comes  the  full  revelation  of  Father, 
Son  and  Holy  Ghost,  of  the  one  and  threefold 
Being.  This  at  once  establishes  .the  connection 
of  the  relation  which  we  sustain  to  God  with  the 
Being  of  God  itself.  By  itself  the  Father-name 
might  yet  stand  outside  of  the  Divine  Being, 
and  merel}'  have  been  borrowed  from,  human 
family  life.  In  this  case  it  would  merely  imply, 
that  as  we  are  children  of  our  father  at  home, 
God  also  watches  as  a  Father  over  us.  But  all 
this  becomes  different  at  once.  In  his  Being 
God  is  eternally  Father,  and  in  this  same  Being 
of  God  is  the  Son.  Hence  what  is  known  on 
earth  in  the  family  is  only  the  image  of  what 
eternally  was  in  the  Being  of  God.  It  is  no 
longer  a  comparision.  The  real  is  expressed  in 
the  Father-name.  Likewise  when  we  are  privi- 
ledge  to  be  called  God's  Child,  this  name  is  not 
borrowed  from  comparision  with  the  family,  but 
it  comes  to  us  directly  from  the  image  of  God. 
He  is  not  merely  called  our  Father,  but  he  is 
eternally  our  Father.  We  are  not  merely  called 
his  child.  We  are  his  child,  generated  by  him 
and  born  from  him. 

251 


This  is  salvation.  Wherefore  he  who  takes  the 
confession  of  the  Trinity  as  a  mere  doctrinal 
question,  does  not  fathom  by  far  what  this  revela- 
tion of  Father,  Son  and  Holy  Ghost  implies. 
Only  the  Triune  God  is  the  wealth  and  the  delight 
of  the  soul. 

48 

"WHO  DWELLETH  ON  HIGH  AND 

BEHOLDETH  THE  THINGS." 

IN  THE  EARTH. 

He  who  seeks  to  live  near  unto  God,  and  does 
not  know  how  to  keep  his  distance  from  God, 
commits  sin.  This  is  sadly  evident  at  times  in 
prayer  before  others,  and  shows  itself  at  once  by 
the  use  of  "you"  in  place  of  "thee"  and  "thou". 
In  countries  where  the  language  contains  two 
forms  o£  address,  one  more  common  and  one  more 
dignified,  it  has  always  been  the  custom  to  use 
the  more  common  form  in  prayer.  In  France 
we  have  the  'Notre  Pere  qui  est  aux  cieux,  ton 
regne  vienne";  and  in  German:  "Unser  Vater  der 
du  im  Himmel  bist,  dein  Name  werde  geheilight." 
In  addressing  his  father  a  Dutch  child  always  used 
the  terms  du  and  dein,  which  in  meaning  lay  in 
between  the  vulgar  Dutch  "jou"  and  the  dignified 
"thee  and  thou."  But  this  has  been  changed.  To 
address  his  father  now  otherwise  than  by  "thee  and 
thou"  would  be  considered  a  breach  on  the  part 
of  the  Dutch  Child  of  the  Fifth  Commandment. 
When  thus  in  addressing  an  earthly  father  a  whole- 
some appreciation  of  language  avoids  the  use  of 
vulgar  terms,  it  betokens  a  want  of  sufficient 
reverence  before  the  Father  who  is  in  heaven,  when 
one  tries  to  show  a  certain  daring,  in  thus  ad- 

252 


dressing  the  Highest  Being.  It  betrays  the  tend- 
ency to  show  how  intimately  the  man  who  prays 
holds  converse  with  his  God.  And  while  this  is 
done  at  the  expense  of  reverence  towards  God,  it 
leads  to  sin. 

Both  what  is  exalted  and  what  is  ordinary  have 
very  naturally  a  certain  trait  in  common.  A  king 
on  his  throne  is  exalted,  his  butler  is  only  ordinary. 
Yet  they  have  this  in  common,  that  their  family 
name  is  rarely  used.  As  a  rule  they  are  spoken 
of  by  name.  In  England  people  speak  of  King 
George.  Almost  no  one  thinks  of  his  family  name 
of  Windsor.  Likewise  every  one  knows  the  butler 
by  his  first  name,  while  in  case  of  a  payment  of 
taxes  his  family  name  is  frequently  a  subject  of 
inquiry. 

This  is  because  the  exalted  departs  from  the 
ordinary  measure  of  our  life,  and  so  does  that 
w^hich  falls  below  it.  As  we  read  in  Isaiah  57:15, 
"For  thus  saith  the  high  and  lofty  One  that  in- 
habiteth  eternity;  I  dwell  in  the  high  and  holy 
place,  with  him  also  that  is  of  a  contrite  and 
humble  spirit".  The  lofty  and  the  humble  are 
here  mentioned  in  one  breath.  Our  ordinary  life 
has  certain  measures,  forms  and  dimensions, 
certain  well  known  figures  and  appearances.  All 
this  together  forms  our  human  life.  And  it  la 
the  sin  of  every  thing  that  is  called  heathen, 
that  it  brings  the  Almighty  down  to  the  level  of 
the  human.  Thus  the  heathen  make  an  image 
of  a  man,  or  of  an  animal,  and  kneel  down  to  it, 
and  so  destroy  the  incalculable  difference  between 
human  and  Divine  life. 

In  the  face  of  it  Holy  Scripture  discloses  the 
holy  sphere  of  the  lofty,  i.  e.  of  a  life  that  goes 

253 


out  far  and  high  above  our  earthly,  human  hfe. 
Nature  gives  us  an  impression  of  it  in  the  firma- 
ment that  arches  high  above  us,  in  the  sky  that 
hastens  upwards,  and  in  the  mighty  thunder  that 
rolls  through  the  dark  hosts  of  clouds.  In  a 
heavy  thunder-storm,  in  the  hurricane  that  rages 
upon  the  great  waters,  in  an  earthquake  which 
makes  the  ground  to  vibrate  under  our  feet, 
with  a  volcano  that  vomits  forth  its  lava,  every 
one  feels  that  we  have  to  do  with  powers  that 
exceed  the  limits  of  our  human  life.  They  are 
the  interpreters  of  the  existence  of  a  higher, 
mightier  world  than  ours.  Wherefore  all  this  takes 
its  place  in  what  we  call  the  lofty.  It  ascends 
higher  still  when  we  lift  up  our  soul  and  mind  to 
the  world  of  angels  and  of  the  blessed  in  eternal 
light.  But  higher  still  is  the  Most  Highest,  Our 
God  in  his  Majesty.  And  every  portrayal  which 
God  himself  gives  in  prophecy  of  the  palace  of  the 
Divine  King,  and  of  the  throne  of  his  Omnipotence 
above,  lifts  itself  so  high  and  far  above  all  mea- 
sure of  our  common  life  that  of  our  own  accord 
we  honor  therein  the  Past  in  its  completeness. 
This  must  be  so,  in  order  that  we  might  continue 
to  be  man,  and  leave  God  to  be  God,  and  that 
we  might  never  lose  from  sight  the  distance  at 
which  the  Creator  stands  high  above  the  creature. 
When  we  realize  this  distance  reverence  attends 
our  worship,  and  in  deep  humility  of  spirit  we 
kneel  before  his  lofty  throne. 

This  same  God  who  dwelleth  on  high,  in  the 
lofty  and  holy  places,  also  dwells  with  him  that 
is  of  a  contrite  and  humble  spirit.  He  humbleth 
himself  to  behold  the  things  that  are  in  heaven, 
and  in  the  earth  (Ps.  113:6).    The  laborer  and  the 


poor  are  frequently  treated  with  far  more  consid- 
eration by  those  of  assured  position,  than  by  those 
of  lower  social  standing.  When  a  subject  ap- 
proaches his  king,  as  a  rule  he  is  surprised  by  the 
kind  treatment  which  he  receives.  And  since  the 
Lord  God  is  highly  exalted  above  every  one  of  us, 
it  is  no  contradiction,  but  entirely  along  the  same 
line,  that  when  he  turns  himself  to  his  creature, 
he  refreshes  and  comforts  it  by  an  holy.  Divine 
familiarity. 

Sacred  reserve  therefore  becomes  us  in  our 
approach  to  God.  Familiarity  with  the  Eternal 
must  always  proceed  from  the  side  of  God,  and 
may  never  be  presumed  upon  by  the  creature. 
When  man  makes  bold  to  ignore  the  boundary 
of  reverence,  God  repulses  him.  For  then  man 
exalts  himself  at  the  expense  of  the  loftiness  of 
hid  Lord.  This  interrupts  the  secret  walk  with 
God.  At  last  he  retains  nothing  but  vain  beating 
in  the  air  after  the  Infinite,  after  a  higher  Being, 
a  higher  blessing,  a  name  without  content,  a 
sound  that  volatilizes;  and  he  has  lost  his  Father 
and  his  God. 

The  Our  Father  puts  us  under  solemn  restraint. 
By  grace  we  are  permitted  to  invoke  God  as  our 
Father.  But  for  the  sake  of  reverence  it  follows 
at  once :  Who  art  in  heaven,  in  order  that,  as  the 
Catechism  warns  us,  no  one  should  think  of 
God  in  an  earthly  way. 

That  God  is  the  Lofty  and  Holy  One  who 
dwelleth  on  high,  and  that  there  is  a  secret  walk 
with  him,  because  he  humbleth  himself  to  behold 
the  things  in  the  earth,  creates  of  itself  a  two- 
fold endeavor  to  overcome  the  distance  that 
separates  him  from  us.     One  is,  that  God  comes 

255 


down  to  us.  The  second  is,  that  we  lift  up  our 
soul  to  him.  It  begins  with  the  first.  The  second 
follows.  In  Paradise  after  the  fall  God  comes 
down,  to  Adam,  and  this  condescension  on  the 
part  of  God  goes  on  thoughout  all  Revelation. 
This  coming  down  is  made  perfect  in  the  manger 
of  Bethlehem  in  behalf  of  our  entire  race.  At 
the  great  feast  of  Pentecost  in  Jerusalem  God  the 
Holy  Ghost  comes  down  into  human  hearts. 
This  descent  of  God  still  continues  with  every  soul 
that  passes  from  death  into  life.  Then  God  comes 
to  take  up  his  abode  in  the  heart.  Then  he  prays 
for  us,  and  in  us  with  groanings  that  are  unutter- 
able, and  he  who  dwelleth  on  high  dwells  at  the 
same  time  in  the  contrite  heart. 

Parallel  with  this  runs  the  lifting  up  of  our 
soul  to  God.  "Unto  thee,  O  Lord,  do  I  lift  up  my 
soul"  (Ps.  25:1).  What  we  seek  is  "to  dwell  in 
the  house  of  the  Lord,"  to  take  refuge  in  him 
as  our  "high  Tower,"  and  to  live  our  life  apart 
from  the  world  in  order  to  dwell  with  the  Holy 
One.  "Seek  the  things  that  are  above  where 
Christ  is"  (Col.  3:1)  and  to  you  will  be  given 
"walks  to  w^alk  among  those  that  are  above" 
(Zech.  3:7). 

When  God  comes  down  to  you,  the  idol  of 
self,  even  as  Dagon's  image,  must  be  thrown 
down.  But  when  this  is  done,  and  your  spirit 
is  contrite,  and  you  have  come  down  from  your 
imagined  heights  to  humbler  perceptions  of  your- 
self, the  wall  of  separation  falls  down,  the  dis- 
tance shortens,  and  the  moment  arrives  when  you 
feel  that  God  is  with  you  in  your  own  heart,  and 
that  von  cannot  live  otherwise  than  near  unto 
God.' 

256 


Reverence  before  the  Almighty  has  always 
proved  itself  most  deep  and  most  true  with  those 
who  stand  nearest  to  the  Lord.  While  on  the  other 
hand  they  who  have  never  entered  into  seeret 
fellowship  ^^^th  God.  have  become  more  and 
more  devoid  of  all  salutar\^  fear,  awe  and  rever- 
ence before  the  Lord  our  God.  In  many  cases 
they  even  profane  his  Holiness  by  reckless  and 
thoughtless  use  of  his  Name  as  an  expletive. 

It  is  grace,  and  grace  alone,  that  the  High  and 
Lofty  One  takes  his  finite  creature  into  his  con- 
fidence, enters  into  secret  fellowship  with  him, 
admits  him  into  his  tent  and  visits  him  in  his 
heart.  And  they  alone  enjoy  the  delight  of  this 
sacred  privilege,  who  receive  it  in  a  thankful  and 
worshipful  spirit.  They  have  the  promise  that  they 
will  be  tranlated  one  daj'  from  this  earthly  into 
the  heavenly  state,  in  order  that  in  the  high  and 
lofty  Fatherhouse  of  God,  they  may  dwell  for- 
ever with   the  Lord. 


"BEFORE  I  WAS  AFFLICTED  I 
WENT  ASTRAY." 

There  is  also  an  entirely  personal  knowledge  of 
God  which  comes  to  us  through  the  ebb  and 
flood  tides  of  sorrow  and  of  joy.  But  this  must 
not  be  exaggerated.  The  idea  that  disappoint- 
ment and  soiTow  as  a  rule  open  the  soul  to  God, 
and  that  suffering  always  makes  perfect,  is  loudly 
contradicted  by  experience.  Undoubtedly  great 
disasters,  which  strike  heavily  and  suddenly, 
such  as  pestilence,  storms  that  threaten  ship- 
wreck, destructive  earthquakes,  danger  of  death 
in  sudden  illness,  remind  the  thoughtless  for  a 
257 


monent,  that  there  is  a  God  with  whom  we  have 
to  do.  But  as  soon  as  the  danger  is  past,  it 
takes  but  a  little  while  for  the  faint  impression 
to  wear  away.  After  a  deliverance  from  pestil- 
ence, for  instance,  unblushing  worldliness  has 
frequently  shown  itself  more  godless  than  before. 
Everything  was  all  right  again.  One  was  almost 
ashamed  that  at  heart  he  had  been  afraid.  But 
now  one  was  master  of  himself  again,  and  would 
improve  his  chance  to  enjoy  life,  before  the 
possible  return  of  similar  ill  luck.  Or  where  they 
did  not  take  so  wide  a  swing  as  this,  and  dis- 
sipation was  carefully  avoided,  the  return  after 
disaster  to  old-time  self-sufficiency  was  almost 
systematic,  and  life  was  lived  again,  if  not  directly 
opposed  to,  yet  uithout,  God. 

And  this  was  not  always  the  worst.  Great 
adversities  have  frequently  led  souls,  that  shared 
a  general  belief,  into  atheism.  It  was  firmly  held, 
that  if  in  the  hour  of  need  God  were  but  invoked, 
deliverance  was  sure.  At  the  sickbed  of  husband 
or  child  the  prayer  arose:  O,  God,  save  them. 
But  when  this  prayer  evidently  brought  no  relief, 
and  inexorable  death  dragged  the  loved  one  into 
the  grave,  the  whole  soul  rose  up  in  rebellion. 
If,  prayer  brings  no  help  in  distress,  there  is  no 
God.  Or  if  there  is  a  God,  he  can  be  no  God 
of  love,  and  in  bitterness  of  soul  life  is  lived 
in  rebellion  against  God. 

Suffering  truly  makes  perfect,  but  only  when 
grace  is  known  in  the  heart,  and  not  with  the 
unregenerate  child  of  the  world.  In  sooth,  suffer- 
ing can  be  a  means  in  the  hand  of  God  to  bring 
a   wanderer  to   a   stand,   and   to   conversion,  but 

258 


even  then  conversion  is  effected  by  the  work  of 
Divine  grace  in  the  soul,  and  suffering  in  connec- 
tion with  this  is  merely  an  accidental  means  of 
aid.  As  Job  sat  among  the  ashes  his  wife  did 
not  hesitate  to  say  to  him;  "Curse  God,  and  die," 
And  it  is  only  the  soul,  which  like  that  of  the 
Psalmist,  is  a  subject  of  heavenly  grace,  that  is 
able,  after  deliverance  from  trouble,  to  confess 
before  God:  "Before  I  was  afflicted  I  went  astray: 
but  now,  being  instructed,  I  keep  thy  word" 
(Ps.  119:67). 

In  joyous  and  prosperous  times  conditions  are 
still  worse.  As  a  rule  they  who  live  at  ease 
are  farther  estranged  from  God,  than  they  who 
have  to  work  for  daily  bread.  The  sharply 
drawn  antithesis  betw^een  the  rich  man  and  poor 
Lazarus  has  been  verified  in  all  ages  and  among 
all  peoples.  Radiant  beauty,  abounding  health, 
unbroken  prosperity  in  one's  career  or  business, 
great  happiness  at  home,  abundance  of  material 
wealth,  so  that  care  and  trouble  were  unknown, 
have  almost  never  seemed  able  to  foster  true 
godliness.  They  rather  fortified  a  man  in  his  self- 
sufficiency,  in  the  high  estimate  of  his  own  self, 
and  drew  the  soul  away  from  God,  rather  than 
that  by  them  the  soul  felt  itself  drawn  toward 
him.  Such  has  been  the  case  with  individual  per- 
sons, with  whole  families  and  nations.  When  there 
was  peace,  and  national  power  grew  so  that  the 
people  revelled  in  wealth,  they  went  with  equal 
pace  almost  always  spiritually  backwards.  When 
the  Dutch  had  to  fight  hard  and  long  for  spiritual 
liberty,  religion  and  public  morals  stood  high. 
But  when  in  the  18th  century  gold  streamed  in 
from  every  side,  and  wealth  became  the  law  of 

259 


life,  the  nation  became  decadent.  The  mighty 
world-empire  of  Rome  fared  the  same  way. 
Sobriety  and  restraint  made  it  great,  until  luxury 
and  love  of  pleasure  began  from  within,  what  bar- 
baric invasions  from  without  brought  to  a  finish. 
Even  of  South  Africa  it  may  be  asked,  if  the  gold 
from  its  mines  which  suddenly  cast  treasures  into 
the  laps  of  the  people,  did  not  hasten  its  present 
estate. 

There  have  been  persons,  families,  and  whole 
generations,  which  from  gratitude  for  material 
blessings  became  more  tenderly  united  to  God. 
But  this  was  only  because  grace  preceded  and 
accompanied  prosperity.  Solomon  remains  the 
historic  type  of  how  even  with  God's  children 
prosperity  can  work  a  spiritual  decline.  They 
are  strong  legs  that  can  carry  wealth,  says  the 
proverb.  And  the  exception  is  rare  in  which  Satan 
does  not  succed  in  the  abuse  of  our  prosperity 
against  him  from  whom  it  comes. 

In  joy  and  sorrow  both  however  most  helpful 
means  are  offered  to  obtain  deeper  knowledge 
of  God;  negatively  in  joy,  positively  in  sorrow. 
When  in  examining  his  wavs  the  child  of  God 
discerns  that  in  days  of  joy  and  plenty  he  incurs 
the  risk  of  becoming  mechanical  in  prayer,  of 
fostering  pride,  of  building  more  confidence  on 
himself  than  on  God,  and  of  being  less  persistent 
in  his  secret  communion  with  God,  it  will  turn, 
if  he  is  sincere,  the  trend  of  his  mind  and  heart. 
As  strongly  as  his  heart  inclined  before  at  times 
towards  the  goods  of  this  world,  he  will  now  begin 
to  be  afraid  of  them.  It  becomes  clear  to  him 
that  God  and  worldly  wealth  do  not  agree,  but 
rather  antagonize  each  other.  He  feels  that  wealth 

260 


itself  is  not  at  fault,  for  there  was  wealth  in 
Paradise,  and  there  is  nothing  but  wealth  in  the 
Fatherhouse  above,  but  that  sin  in  our  heart 
poisons  our  wealth,  and  creates  a  power  that  is 
hostile  to  God. 

In  this  way  God  becomes  more  spiritual  to 
him,  and  in  God,  who  is  a  spirit,  he  learns  by 
contrast  to  understand  better  than  before  the 
price,  the  significance  and  the  worth  of  the  trea- 
sure of  the  spiritual  life.  There  have  been  men 
and  women  among  the  saints  of  God  who  in  the 
midst  of  wealth  have  become  richer  in  God,  and 
have  been  merely  stewards  of  the  goods  entrusted 
to  their  care  in  his  Name,  for  the  good  of  his 
church  and  of  his  poor.  The  impulse  to  do  good 
sprang  not  mfrequently  from  the  fear,  lest  their 
wealth  should  draw  them  away  from  God. 

But  greater  is  the  knowledge  of  God  which  is 
learned  in  times  of  deep  sorrow,  when  there  was 
previous  spiritual  knowledge  of  God  in  the  heart. 
Grievous  affliction  breaks  the  highness  of  self. 
It  makes  us  realize  that  there  are  powers  over 
which  we  have  no  control,  and  which  can  violently 
attack  our  strength,  our  lot  in  life,  our  family, 
our  prospects  of  the  future,  and  the  loves  of  our 
heart.  We  may  call  these  powers  death,  sickness, 
slander,  anger,  hatred,  or  what  we  like.  But  when 
they  come  upon  us,  and  succeed  in  threatening 
or  in  breaking  up  our  happiness,  we  feel  that  they 
stand  before  us  as  powers  in  hostile  array,  that 
they  are  independent  of  us,  and  that  they  have 
far  more  power  over  us  than  we  over  them.  And 
this  revelation  of  power  is  a  revelation  of  the  real 
power,  which  God  has  over  us  and  over  the  world. 

As  long  as  life  runs  a  smooth  course  we  know 
261 


about  God,  we  worship  him,  and  his  spiritual 
power  is  felt  in  the  inner  life  of  the  soul.  But 
it  is  an  altogether  different  matter  when  the 
power  of  God  is  seen  in  the  material,  outward 
life.  For  it  is  in  this  that  affliction  makes  a  breach. 
It  breaks  it,  and  you  see  and  feel  and  handle  the 
power,  that  comes  into  the  life  from  without, 
working  havoc  and  distress.  There  is  no  power 
with  us  to  face  it.  And  in  our  powerlessness 
we  discover  that  there  is  real  power  in  God  alone, 
which  great  and  strong  is  able  to  bring  deliverance, 
and  to  repulse  the  evil  that  is  arrayed  against  us. 

Thus  life  becomes  an  arena  in  which  these 
destructive  powers  work  against  us  and  our  God, 
and  the  saving  power  of  God  enters  into  the 
combat  on  our  side.  At  first  we  continue  to  take 
part  ourselves,  but  when  it  becomes  most  fierce, 
we  are  incapacitated,  at  length  we  become  alto- 
gether passive,  and  we  feel  and  perceive  that  God 
and  his  angels  fight  for  our  salvation.  When  they 
are  snares  of  sin,  by  which  Satan  seeks  to  foil 
us,  this  conflict  is  most  exalted,  most  holy.  In 
the  end  we  feel  that  all  the  angels  and  all  the 
devils  watch  intently  to  see,  what  will  gain  the 
day  in  the  soul;  the  power  of  sin  or  the  power  of 
God. 

This  conflict  maj'  also  bear  an  exalted  character 
with  sorrow  in  the  outward  life,  as  bj^  means  of 
new  affliction  Satan  seeks  to  do  us  harm,  and 
when  in  the  end.  by  God's  help,  w^e  may  sing  of 
victory.  For  by  this  very  struggle  the  soul  learns 
to  understand  more  fully  than  ever  before,  that 
in  the  thing  which  Satan  brings  upon  us,  the 
appointment  of  God's  love  is  carried  out;  that  it 
262 


is  the  purifying  process  of  the  melting-pot;  the 
separating  process  of  the  winnowing  fan;  the 
unfolding  process  of  the  power  of  faith;  the 
inspiring  process  of  our  spiritual  heroism;  the 
loosening  process  of  ties  which  we  prized  more 
highlj^  than  the  tie  which  binds  us  to  God;  the 
equipment  with  the  whole  armor  of  God  against 
still  greater  temptations  to  come;  the  anchoring 
of  the  soul  to  the  higher  world;  and  the  humbling 
of  self  within  us,  in  order  that  even  in  the  heart, 
God  alone  may  be  great. 

And  then  it  is  no  longer  the  question  of  highest 
importance,  whether  we  are  delivered  from  our 
trouble,  or  whether  we  are  overcome  by  it. 
If  God  brings  deliverance,  there  is  outward 
triumph,  which  at  times  is  sorely  needed  to  exhibit 
the  splendor  of  the  supreme  power  of  the  Lord 
over  death  and  pestilence,  over  slander  and  anger, 
over  Satan  and  fortune.  But  this  deliverance  is 
not  the  main  thing.  If  the  exhibition  of  the 
supremacy  of  God  is  deferred  to  the  life  to  come, 
we  must  rest  content.  The  chief  matter  at 
stake  is,  that  the  gold,  that  was  darkened,  may 
glisten  again;  that  we  shall  come  forth  from  the 
fiery  trial  with  greater  spiritual  riches  than  we 
ever  had  before;  that  Satan  shall  be  the  loser 
by  us  and  that  God  shall  be  the  gainer;  that 
God  shall  more  clearly  and  more  intimately 
be  revealed  to  the  soul  in  his  reality,  and  that, 
as  from  the  soul  of  David,  so  from  our  soul, 
may  rise  the  word  of  testimony:  "Before  I 
was  afflicted,  I  went  astray,  but  now  have  I  kept 
thy  word."    All  glory  to  Thy  Name. 


"WITH  THEE  THERE  IS  FORGIVENESS, 
•THAT  THOU  MAYEST  BE  FEARED." 

There  is  still  another  way  that  leads  to  knowl- 
edge of  God.  It  is  one  that  cannot  be  dealt  with 
save  with  most  delicate  care.  We  mean  the  awfal 
way  that  leads  through  the  depths  of  sin.  A 
single  word  of  Jesus  indicates  it  at  once.  To 
Simon  the  Pharisee  he  said:  "To  whom  little  is 
forgiven,  the  same  loveih  little"  (Luke  7:47). 
V/ith  this  word  our  Lord  places  two  persons  in 
contrast  with  each  other.  On  one  side  the  most 
honorable  citizen  of  Nain,  Simon,  his  host.  And 
on  the  other  side  a  woman,  who  was  known  in 
the  little  town  a?  one  of  ill  repute,  a  public 
sinner,  as  was  the  case.  As  her  sins  were  many, 
she  had  been  forgiven  more,  and  consequently  she 
loved  more.  The  virtuous  Simon,  on  the  other 
hand,  who  had  sinned  less,  was  forgiven  less, 
and  consequently  he  loved  less. 

If  love  for  Christ  is  one  of  the  richest  sources, 
from  which  vital  knowledge  of  God  flows  out 
towards  us.  for  this  woman,  the  way  of  deep  sin 
thanks  to  the  larger  forgiveness,  was  the  means 
to  attain  fuller  knowledge  of  God.  He  who  only 
strives  after  book-knowledge  of  God,  can  not 
understand  this,  and  will  never  be  able  to  put 
up  with  this  vigorous  word  of  Jesus.  He  on  the 
other  hand  who  knows  from  experience  that  warm, 
and  upbuilding  knowledge  of  God  is  fed  and 
carried  most  effectively  by  love  for  God,  accepts 
this  word  of  Jesus  gratefully,  even  though  it 
makes  him  shudder. 

The   contrast  between  the   dark  nature   of  sin 

264 


and  holiness  is  so  sharp,  that  for  the  moment 
it  takes  a  violent  effort  on  the  part  of  the  soul  to 
understand  that  a  deep  way  of  sin  can  be  one 
that  leads  to  richer  knowledge  of  God.  And  it  be- 
hooves us  to  treat  this  aspect  of  the  subject  in 
hand  the  more  humbl}',  because  of  those  who,  even 
in  our  land,  in  a  satanic  way  have  misapplied  this 
word  of  Jesus,  at  times  shamelessly  confessing  in 
private:  "I  gloriously  sinned  again,  after  which 
I  had  a  blessed  time  of  finding."  Such  satanic 
sayings  are  nothing  else  than  a  slander  on  the 
mercies  of  our  God.  But  though  this  horrible 
abuse  of  Jesus'  word  compels  utmost  carefulness, 
the  heavenly  gold  that  glitters  in  this  word,  must 
not  be  dimmed.  It  is  and  remains  true,  that 
greater  sin  with  greater  forgiveness  can  lead  to 
greater  love  and  thereby  to  a  richer  knowledge 
of  God. 

This  word  alone  offers  us  the  key  to  the  beat- 
itude of  the  murderer  on  the  cross,  and  to  the 
promise  of  Jesus,  that  presently  with  himself  he 
would  be  in  Paradise.  Fundamentally  it  is  the 
same  as  what  David  wrote  in  Ps.  130:4.  "But 
there  is  forgiveness  with  thee,  that  thou  mayest 
be  feared."  From  the  forgiveness  of  sin  springs 
tender  attachment  in  the  service  of  the  Lord. 
Sin,  forgiveness,  love,  and  from  this  love  knowl- 
edge of  God,  are  the  four  beads  in  the  one 
sacred  string. 

The  whole  Gospel  rests  in  fact  upon  this  recog- 
nition, and  the  saying  of  one  of  the  heroes  of 
the  faith  in  earlier  days:  "Felix  culpa,"  which 
means  that  there  was  something  glorious  in  the 
fall,  can  never  be  entirely  ignored.  The 
angels  of  God  have  no  knowledge  of  sin,  hence 

265 


also  they  know  no  forgiveness.  Hence  again  thej^ 
have  no  knowledge  of  the  tender  love  which 
springs  from  forgiveness  received,  nor  of  the  richer 
knowledge  of  God  which  is  born  from  this  ten- 
derer affection.  It  is  foreign  to  them,  and  there- 
fore the  apostle  writes  regarding  this  mytery  that 
they  are  desirous  "to  look  into  it."  Undoubtedly 
the  revelation  of  the  Being  and  Attributes  of  God, 
as  it  came  to  us  in  the  mighty  work  of  the 
Atonement  is  far  richer,  far  more  tender  and 
more  striking  than  the  first  revelation  in  Paradise. 
The  grace,  mercy  and  compassion  of  our  God  for 
the  Sinner  give  us  a  look  into  the  Father  heart 
which  apart  from  sin  would  never  have  been 
possible.  The  knowledge  of  God  which  we  receive 
in  and  though  Christ  far  exceeds  all  other  knowl- 
edge of  him.  And  yet  in  the  Scripture  the 
mission  of  the  Son  to  this  world  is  motived  by 
sin  alone.  Everj-  deeply  moved  utterance  of 
love  for  God  in  old  and  New  Testament  springs 
from  the  thrilling  experience  of  the  heart,  that 
the  sei-^-ant  and  handmaiden  of  the  Lord  have 
been  redeemed  from  sin  and  delivered  from  misery. 
And  neither  reconciliation  and  sanctification,  nor 
deliverance  from  misery  would  have  been  think- 
able, had  not  sin  engulfed  the  world.  Even 
now  it  is  frequently  seen  that  the  cool  sympathy 
for  God  on  the  part  of  the  unconverted  differs 
from  the  warm  attachment  to  God  on  the  part 
of  the  redeemed  in  that  the  unconverted  always 
discount  sin,  while  the  redeemed  always  start 
out  from  the  knowledge  of  misery,  that  by  reason 
of  the  knowledge  of  sin  they  may  arrive  at  the 
knowledge  of  God. 

266 


Love  for  God  apart  from  sin  operates  most 
purely  with  the  angels.  And  yet,  however  glorious 
their  love  for  God  may  be,  it  is  a  different  and 
a  lesser  love  than  that  of  the  redeemed  sinner 
for  his  God  and  Savior.  It  is  not  for  us  to  say, 
how  revelation  would  have  unfolded  itself,  had 
not  Adam  fallen  and  had  not  Christ  come.  This 
much  is  certain,  the  rich  knowledge  of  God's 
boundless  mercies  is  the  highest  knowledge  of 
God  for  us,  and  this  is  immediately  connected 
with  the  loss  of  Paradise  in  sin  and  misery. 

This  holds  true  with  individuals.  Many  people 
who  call  themselves  Christians  in  these  days 
count  little  with  the  knowledge  of  sin.  They  were 
religiously  brought  up,  and  have  not  fallen  into 
open  sin.  Hence  sin  does  not  oppress  them,  and  the 
need  of  reconciliation  is  no  longer  felt.  The 
Cross  addresses  them  differently.  Their  Christ- 
ianity is  one  of  high  ideals  and  good  works. 
The  sad  result  is  that  they  have  less  and  less 
mystical,  tender  and  cherishing  love  for  God,  and 
that  the  "Blessed  is  the  man  whose  sin  is  covered" 
(Ps.  32:1)  indicates  a  state  of  happiness,  which 
is  foreign  to  them. 

There  are  others  who  have  become  deeply 
versed  in  the  knowledge  of  sin,  either  through  the 
terrors  of  the  law,  or  by  the  fact  that  God 
abandoned  them  to  their  sin.  But  at  length 
they  came  to  a  halt.  A  burning  thirst  after 
reconciliation  took  hold  of  them.  And  having 
found  the  same  in  their  Savior  they  are  now 
filled  with  praise  and  adoration  of  the  mercies 
of  the  Lord.  Their  love  for  the  God  of  unfathom- 
able   compassion    is    more    and    more    increased. 


And  according  to  the  greater  measure  of  their  sin, 
they  enter  into  a  far  richer  measure  of  fellowship 
with  the  Father  who  is  in  heaven,  and  of  the 
knowledge  of  his  holy  Name.  A  more  brutal 
outbreak  in  sin  is  not  at  all  the  necessary  back- 
ground of  this  experience.  As  in  the  case  of 
Luther,  a  deeper  insight  into  ordinary  sin  can 
create  an  equally  burning  desire  after  reconcilia- 
tion. Of  all  the  apostles  St.  Paul  glories  most 
enthusiastically  from  the  love  of  the  redeemed, 
because,  having  persecuted  the  church  of  God,  he 
felt  himself  to  be  the  chief  of  sinners.  And  so 
it  still  remains  true,  that  he  who  has  fallen  deeply 
into  sin,  and  has  come  to  a  full  and  genuine 
conversion,  has  attained  the  thirst  after  reconcilia- 
tion and  the  gratitude  of  love  for  the  same,  in 
such  a  measure  of  intensity,  as  to  spread  in  a 
surprising  manner  blessings  everywhere,  even  to 
the  extend  that  at  times  one  can  envy  him  the 
warmth  of  his  inner  life. 

Shall  we  then  sin,  that  grace,  and  with  it 
love  and  knowledge  of  God  may  increase?  Far 
from  it.  This  question  is  diabolical.  He  who  pro- 
pounds it  does  not  love  God.  He  offers  God's 
love  an  insult  in  the  face.  But  it  does  imply, 
that  it  is  safe  for  every  child  of  God  to  look 
more  deeply  into  the  sins  of  his  own  heart;  not 
to  ignore  his  secret  sins;  ever  and  anon  to  apply 
again  the  full  atonement  to  all  the  breadth  and 
length  of  the  sins  of  his  heart;  and  thus  to 
become  ever  more  deeply  sensible  of  how  end- 
lessly much  there  was  that  needed  forgiveness, 
and  that  has  been  forgiven. 


There  are  two  ways  that  here  present  them- 
selves. ■  One  man  minimizes  ihis  sin.  He  ia 
offended  when  he  is  told  of  his  guilt.  He  will  not 
hear  it  said  that  he  is  guilty  in  all  sorts  of  ways. 
He  holds  himself  erect,  and  deems  himself  a 
saint.  This  is  the  way  to  cover  up  one's  sin, 
and  not  to  thirst  after  reconciliation ;  not  to  return 
thanks  for  reconciliation  and  love;  and  con- 
sequently to  remain  far  removed  from  the  knowl- 
edge of  God.  But  there  is  also  another  way. 
It  is  that  of  humbling  oneself.  In  this  way  the 
child  of  God  distrusts  himself.  He  is  grateful 
for  having  sin  pointed  out.  to  him.  He  investi- 
gates ever  more  closely  his  heart,  his  past,  and 
the  present  state  of  his  soul.  And  so  there 
is  everytime  new  need  of  reconciliation,  new  joy 
in  forgiveness  received,  more  love  for  the  Merciful 
One,  and  an  ever  deeper  entering  into  the  knowl- 
edge of  God  his  Savior. 

Moreover  he  who  as  a  Christian  man  imitates 
Simon  the  Pharisee,  and  esteems  himself  to  be 
just,  can  not  bear  that  one  who  is  a  ^'Sinner" 
is  addressed  by  Jesus.  There  is  the  exalted  sense 
of  one's  own  saintliness,  which  has  no  place  for 
the  compassion  shown  the  prodigal  who  returns. 

But  when  by  a  deeper  knowledge  of  our  own  sin 
we  feel  that  we  ourselves  are  small,  and  we  refresh 
ourselves  each  day  with  a  new  draught  from  the 
cup  of  reconciliation,  there  will  awaken  in  our 
hearts  something  of  the  joy  of  the  angels  of  God 
over  one  sinner  that  repenteth,  which  is  greater 
than  the  joy  over  the  ninety  and  nine  who  have 
no  need  of  repentance.  For  this  is  the  Gospel  of 
Christ. 

269 


51 

"I  ACKNOWLEDGE  ^lY  SIN 
UNTO  THEE." 

Although  it  is  a  Divine  appointment,  for  which 
it  behooves  us  to  give  thanks,  it  is  nevertheless 
difficult  for  us,  sinners,  to  realize  that  in  the  end 
even  sin  is  compelled  to  become  a  means  of 
leading  us  into  deeper  knowledge  of  God,  and.  of 
making  the  majesty  of  the  Lord  to  shine  upon 
us  more  brightl3^  That  as  the  tempter  of  men, 
Satan  abuses  this  appointment  of  God,  that  in 
a  heaven-defying  way  he  may  mingle  sin  and 
religion,  does  not  in  the  least  darken  the  glory 
of  this  appointment.  Neither  can  anyone  say, 
whether,  in  case  Satan  first,  and  after  him  Adam, 
had  not  fallen,  the  Lord  God  would  have  opened 
another  wa}-,  unknown  to  us  now,  by  which  to 
lead  us  into  an  equally  deep,  if  not  a  still  more 
intimate  knowledge  of  his  Name  and  Being. 

All  these  reflections  however  do  not  advance 
us  a  single  step.  We  have  been  born  in  a  sinful 
world.  We  have  to  count  with  it.  And  this 
being  the  case  it  is  meet  for  us  to  thank  God, 
that  he  makes  good  to  come  out  of  evil,  and 
that  he  uses  even  sin  to  enrich  the  knowledge 
of  his  Name  and  Being  in  the  inner  perception  of 
his  child.  Grace,  conpassion  and  mercy,  as  revela- 
tions of  Divine  love  are  more  profound,  than 
Divine  blessing  in  prosperity  and  Divine  help  in 
time  of  need.  But  the  knowledge  of  this  grace 
and  compassion  can  only  be  kno%vn  by  him,  who 
has  tasted  the  sweets  of  reconciliation,  and  who 
can  count   himself  not   only  among   God's   crea- 

270 


tures,  but  also  among  the  redeemed.  In  Christ 
there  has  come  to  us  a  knowledge  of  God's 
name  and  being,  such  as  has  never  been  known 
outside  of  him,  but  Bethlehem  as  well  as  Golgotha 
find  their  cause  alone  in  the  salvation  of  sinners. 

Even  the  knowledge  of  the  Almighty  power 
of  God  has  been  greatly  enriched  by  sin.  Does 
not  the  apostle  say  that  the  "exceeding  great- 
ness of  his  power,  according  to  the  mighty  work- 
ing of  his  strength  (Eph.  1:19)  was  only  revealed 
to  us  in  the  resurrection  of  Christ  and  in  the 
regeneration  of  believers."  In  the  re-creation  there 
was  a  greater  exhibition  of  majesty  and  of  al- 
mighty power  than  in  the  creation.  In  causing 
Christ  to  rise  from  the  dead  there  was  a  mightier 
unfolding  of  Divine  strength  than  in  the  first  call 
from  nothing  into  being.  But  there  would  have 
been  no  resurrection  without  death,  and  no  re- 
creation without  fall,  and  since  both  fall  and 
death  find  their  starting  point  in  sin  alone,  this 
higher  revelation  of  the  Almighty  power  of  God, 
which  shows  itself  in  resurrection  and  in  re-crea- 
tion would  never  have  come  to  us  in  this  way, 
had  we  not  sinned.  And  in  order  to  get  the  fiill 
meaning  of  what  this  implies  we  must  go  down 
still  one  step  more,  and  come  to  acknowledge,  that 
in  the  hand  of  God  sin  becomes  the  means  to 
heighten,  and  make  more  clear,  our  inner  per- 
ception of  the  holiness  of  God. 

Of  course  they  who  in  their  unconverted  state 
still  walk  in  the  way  of  sin,  are  here  left  out  of 
count.  We  only  speak  in  this  connection  of  the 
redeemed,  of  those  who  have  found  eternal  life 
itself  in  knowing  God.    And  how  did  the  history 

271 


of  sin  in  their  case  run?  How  runs  it  now?  Two 
classes  of  persons  should  here  be  kept  apart. 
Those  who  broke  out  into  sin  in  an  offensive 
way,  and  the  others  who  remained  withm  the 
bounds  of  an  ordinary  sinful  existence.  Mary 
of  Magdala  and  Salome  do  not  stand  in  one  line. 
Peter,  who  thrice  denied  his  Master,  passed 
through  an  entirely  different  inward  struggle 
from  John,  who  remained  faithful  to  his  Savior. 
The  spiritual  experiences  of  the  two  differ  in  this 
respect,  that  the  sinner  who  went  far  astray  can 
sometimes  in  his  conversion  arouse  the  jealousy 
of  the  sinner  who  remained  within  bounds.  The 
inner  tumult  of  the  first  is  far  greater,  his  struggle 
in  the  transition  far  more  heroic.  His  glorying 
in  grace,  when  at  last  the  burden  of  his  guilt  falls 
from  his  shoulders,  is  much  more  abundant.  The 
prodigal  who  returns  has  something,  which  the 
son,  who  remained  at  home,  lacks. 

He  who  deems  however  that  the  calm,  ordinary 
sinner  can  not  drain  the  cup  of  grace  to  the 
bottom,  if  we  may  so  express  it,  is  mistaken. 
Even  he  who  is  guilty  of  the  heinous  sins  of 
drunkenness,  immorality  or  dishonesty,  runs  the 
great  risk  of  counting  these  extravagant  dis- 
sipations as  his  real,  actual  sin,  and  of  ignoring 
the  sinful  nature  back  of  them.  It  is  repeatedly 
seen,  that  such  sinners  who  have  been  converted 
from  their  former  evil  practices,  entirely  get  away 
from  them,  while  for  the  rest  they  continue  in 
sin,  without  making  any  advances  in  sanctification 
of  heart  and  life.  On  the  contraiy  they  who  have 
continued  unblameable  before  the  eyes  of  men, 
have  after  their  conversion,  a  much  keener  eye, 
for    the    refined,    hidden    sins    of    the    heart,    and 

272  . 


as  fruit  of  their  faith  the^'  unfold  a  much  richer 
Christain  life.  The  conveil  from  gross  sins  fre- 
quently counts  all  his  life  long  with  the  weight  of 
pounds  alone,  while  the  quiet  convert  weighs 
with  the  assay-balance. 

This  is  not  true  of  all.  Alas,  there  are  not  a 
few  who  turn  the  fact  itself  that  they  remained 
free  from  great  sins,  into  a  cloak  in  which  they 
make  a  fine  appearance,  and  with  their  ordinary 
sins  of  pride  and  quiet  selfishness  go  on  to  life's 
end,  without  ever  putting  up  a  serious  fight 
against  them.  But  if  we  take  the  redeemed  in 
the  narrower  sense,  the  tenderness  of  conscience 
with  respect  to  sin  even  goes  so  far,  that  they 
distrust  their  own  examination  of  heart,  and  al- 
ways end  with  the  prayer  that  God  will  also 
make  known  to  them  their  secret  sins,  and  for- 
give them.  For  when  the  heart  does  not  con- 
demn us,  God  is  greater  than  our  heart,  and  he 
knows  all  things,  even  those  that  hide  in  the 
innermost  recesses  of  the  soul. 

But  in  whatever  way  and  measure  the  inner 
struggle  against  sin  awakens,  it  always  begins 
with  a  troubled  conscience.  And  that  which  dis- 
turbs us  in  this  is  always  the  voice  of  God  up- 
braiding us  for  sin.  This  is  partly  the  case  with 
people  of  the  world  whose  conscience  at  first  is 
never  entirely  extinguished.  But  with  them  the 
voice  of  God  in  the  conscience  is  not  recognized. 
They  take  it  either  as  a  troublesome  resistance 
on  the  part  of  their  spiritual  nature  against  the 
the  things  which  their  carnal  nature  craves.  So 
they  sear  the  conscience  in  order  to  go  freely  on 
in  sin.  Or,  they  take  it  as  an  impulse  of  their 
273 


better  self,  and  dream  that  they  train  themselves 
in  virtuous  living.  This  results  in  a  good  deal 
of  social  respectability  and  praise-worthy  self-con- 
trol. But  it  bears  no  fruit  for  eternal  life,  inso- 
much as  they  claim  the  honor  of  it  for  themselves, 
and  withdraw  themselves  from  God,  with  whom 
they  refuse  to  reckon. 

The  operation  of  the  conscience  is  altogether 
different  with  the  redeemed.  With  them  the 
first  effect  of  the  troubled  conscience  is,  that  they 
start  back;  that  they  become  angry  with  the  sin 
which  they  have  committed;  that  for  all  the 
world  they  wish  that  they  had  never  done  it,  and 
that  now  they  stand  embarrassed  and  ashamed 
before  God.  This  gives  rise  to  prayer.  Amidst 
the  cares  and  labors  of  the  day  they  are  aware 
that  God  opposes  their  sin,  but  there  is  much 
diversion  in  general  intercourse  with  people  and 
in  work,  and  so  they  easily  get  away  from  the 
sense  of  it.  In  distinction  however  from  the 
people  of  the  world,  they  still  pray.  And  at  the 
close  of  day  when  before  sleep  they  are  about  to 
bend  their  knees  before  God,  they  feel  disturbed, 
they  shrink  from  prayer,  they  are  conscious  that 
something  lies  in  between  their  heart  and  God, 
and  they  scarcely  dare  to  appear  before  his  face. 

And  then  comes  the  moment  of  decision.  If 
they  shrink  back  and  omit  to  pray,  the  conscience 
takes  the  soporific  drink.  And  unless  God  inter- 
venes, they  are  lost.  Psalm  32  describes  what  fol- 
lows: ''When  I  kept  silence,  my  bones  waxed  old 
through  my  roaring."  But  David  did  not  faint. 
He  struggled  on.  However  deeply  ashamed  he 
was   of  himself,   he   bent  his  knees  before   God. 

274 


Verse  5  of  this  same  Psalm  contains  the  record. 
"I  said  I  will  confess  m}^  trangressions  unto  the 
Lord."  And  so:  I  acknowledged  my  sin  unto 
thee.  .  ,  .  And  thou  forgavest  the  iniquity  of  my 
sin"  When  thus  the  soul  holds  on,  and  before  God 
on  bended  knee  mourns  sin,  the  blessing  is  sure  to 
follow.  ''For  this  shall  every  one  that  is  godly 
praj^  unto  thee  in  a  time  when  thou  mayest  be 
found.  Floods  of  great  waters  may  come.  But 
they  shall  not  come  nigh  unto  him." 

And  in  this  contrition  of  soul  there  is  a  recogni- 
tion of  the  holiness  of  God  with  an  intensity  such 
as  has  never  been  experienced  before.  It  is  no 
longer  a  holiness  of  God  which  was  reasoned  out 
and  inferred  from  the  given  commandments; 
neither  is  it  a  holiness  which  loses  itself  in  vague 
admiration  of  its  own  purity.  It  is  the  Holy  One 
who  in  our  conscience  presses  himself  upon  us, 
and  who  upbraiding  our  sins  by  his  holiness, 
makes  us  to  test  and  to  taste  the  same  in  the 
bitterness  of  our  self-reproach  and  penitence.  The 
holiness  of  God  then  presents  itself  in  the  light 
which  of  necessity  is  formed  by  the  striking  con- 
trast with  the  shadow  of  our  sin.  It  reveals 
itself  as  a  power,  which  quick  and  quickening  has 
antagonized  the  death  of  our  sin.  In  its  absolute 
judgment  of  a  definite,  concrete  sin,  it  assumes  a 
definite,  concrete  form.  And  after  it  is  understood 
by  us  in  this  definite,  concrete  form,  it  lights  up 
as  an  immeasurable  realm  of  holiness,  over- 
against  the  dark  background  of  our  sinful  nature, 
from  which  the  particular  sin  sprang.  This  holi- 
ness does  not  hover,  as  it  were,  over  us.  But  it 
cleaves  unto  us.     And  thus  convicted  of  sin,  and 


under  sentence  of  death,  our  soul  comes  into  direct 
contact,  and  immediate  touch  with  the  holy  God. 
It  brings  us  living  and  striking  knowledge  of  him, 
with  whom  we  have  to  do.  The  sin  was  terrible. 
ButGod  used  it  for  this  end:  that  through  it 
we  should  come  to  a  better  understanding  of  his 
holiness. 

52 

"WHEN  GOD  SHALL  JUDGE  THE 
SECRETS  OF  MEN." 

They  who  conscientiously  devote  a  portion  of 
their  time  to  God,  and  try  to  know  him,  are  few. 
Prayer,  church-attendance  and  good  works  can 
be  practiced  without  actual  engagement  with  God. 
In  many  prayers  the  soul  fails  of  appearing  before 
God,  and  of  having  God  appear  to  the  soul. 
Many  people  go  to  church  and  come  home  again, 
without  having  met  the  Lord,  or  having  been  met 
by  him.  Even  though  during  sermon  time  the 
mind  was  engaged  with  Divine  things,  by  itself, 
this  was  not  being  busy  with  God.  And  as  to  good 
works,  it  needs  scarcely  be  said,  that  we  can  fill 
up  an  entire  day  with  them,  without  so  much  as 
devoting  one  thought  to  him,  who  inspired  us  to 
do  them.  0,  there  is  little,  actual  business  done 
with  the  Living  God. 

Thus  far  we  only  had  in  mind  confessing,  be- 
lieving Christians,  who  practice  prayer,  who  live 
for  their  church,  and  do  good  works.  Think  now  of 
the  unchurched  multitudes,  who  are  not  worldly 
in  any  bad  sense,  but  rather  cultivate  seriousness 
of  thought,  who  honor  virtue  and  admire  higher 

276 


ideals.  And  what  do  we  find  even  with  the  noblest 
and  best  of  them,  of  a  being  busy  with  God?  And 
of  those  who  live  only  for  business,  and  after  that 
for  pleasure,  it  must  be  confessed  with  shame, 
that  there  are  no  dealings  with  God  at  all.  Add 
to  this  the  people  who  are  outspokenly  wicked 
and  godless  in  society  at  large,  and  others  again 
who  are  indifferent  to  all  higher  interests,  and  we 
see,  that  the  number  of  those  who  give  but  a 
small  part  of  their  time  to  fellowship  with  God  is 
very,  very  small. 

It  must  also  be  felt,  if  we  may  so  express  it, 
that  in  his  love  for  the  world,  all  this  must  be 
very  painful  to  God.  For  God  so  loved  the  world, 
that  he  gave  it  his  only-begotten  Son.  He  imparted 
unto  it  susceptibility  to  know  him,  and  to  love 
him  in  return.  Only  a  small  part  of  this  world 
bears  the  Christian  name.  And  in  this  small  part, 
that  has  been  baptized,  even  there  there  are  but 
very  few,  who  day  by  day  turn  their  soul  and 
mind  to  him,  and  enter  into  his  secret  commun- 
ion. All  the  rest  pass  by  on  the  other  side.  They 
are  filled  with  other  things.  And  the  knowledge 
of  his  Name  and  Being  is  scorned  by  them. 

But  according  to  the  Scripture,  this  is  certain, 
that  soon  or  late  the  moment  comes  for  every 
one,  in  which  God  shall  compel  him,  to  deal  ex- 
clusively, and  with  nothing  else  than,  with  him- 
self alone.  He  has  appointed  a  day  for  this. 
And  for  whatever  man  this  day  breaks,  in  it  he 
shall  have  to  appear  before  God,  and  God  shall 
overtake  him  with  his  Majesty,  and  shall  take 
such  possesion  of  him,  that  he  shall  not  be  able 
277 


to  think  of  anything  save  God.  That  day  is 
the  day  of  judgment. 

In  the  representation  of  this  day  of  judgment 
art  has  done  much  harm.  As  art  it  could  not 
do  otherwise  than  work  with  the  representation. 
For  this  it  borrowed  its  material  and  image  from 
an  earthly  court  of  justice,  with  the  millions  and 
the  millions  that  have  ever  lived  on  earth  as 
defendants  before  God's  holy  tribunal.  It  could 
not  do  this  otherwise,  and  this  has  been  done  in 
a  nmsterful  way  by  more  than  one  pencil  or  pen. 
It  should  not  be  forgotten  however,  that  it  is  the 
outward  representation  of  what  is  chiefly  of  a 
spiritual  significance.  And  the  spiritual  act  in 
judgment  can  not  be  pictured.  So  that  when 
infidelity  came  in,  which  denies  the  judgment, 
it  made  use  of  the  outward  representation,  by 
which  to  turn  the  matter  itself  into  ridicule,  and 
to  show  its  impossibility.  Where  would  there  be 
room  for  these  millions  and  millions  of  people 
to  stand?  How  much  time  would  it  take  to  give 
ench  individual  a  hearing,  even  to  the  particulars 
of  every  word  and  thought?  It  is  said  to  be  a 
day,  and  for  ever>^  family  it  would  require  more 
than  a  year. 

Our  confession  struck  a  truer  note,  when  in  view 
of  the  spiritual  nature  of  the  judgment,  it  spoke 
of  it  as  the  opening  of  the  books  of  conscience. 
With  this  understanding  of  it,  the  judgment  is 
a  review,  in  one  clear  v^ision,  of  the  whole  life; 
an  immediate  sight  of  totals,  where  before  we 
only  reckoned  with  the  unpaid  accounts  of  each 
moment.  The  judgment  is  a  settling  of  accounts. 
What  wc  owe  God,  and  what  is  our  due  fo-  deeds 


done  either  good  or  evil,  are  recorded  side  by  side. 
This  is  the  teaching  of  Scripture.  For  we  must 
all  appear,  "says  the  apostle,"  before  the  judg- 
ment seat  of  Christ;  that  every  one  may  receive 
the  things  done  in  his  body,  according  to  that 
he  hath  done,  whether  it  be  good  or  bad  (2  Cor. 
5:10).  And  every  accountant  knows  what  account- 
ing here  means,  and  what  it  implies,  that  in  the 
judment,  God  shall  give  us  his  •  bill  in  toto, 
accompanied  with  explanations,  so  that  we  shall 
be  convinced  in  the  conscience  that  the  account 
is  correct  and  just.  We  shall  have  the  total  re- 
sult, the  entire  resumption  of  our  life,  from 
childhood  on,  shown  unto  us  with  such  certainty, 
as  to  exclude  every  suggestion  of  doubt. 

In  our  automatic  counting-machines,  the  cipher 
of  whatever  is  put  in,  appears  at  once  in  sight. 
The  addition  takes  place  of  itself.  This  is  the 
image  of  our  life.  And  he  who  throughout  all 
of  life  has  refused  to  notice  the  cipher,  that  show- 
ed itself  each  day,  will  in  the  judgment  day 
suddenly  see  the  total  amount,  in  which  nothing 
has  been  forgotten,  and  against  which  nothing 
can  be  said.  There  will  be  an  opportunity  to 
verify  it,  but  this  will  do  no  good.  A  mistake 
in  this  account  is  unthinkable.  And  with  the 
sudden  clearing  of  the  light  of  the  conscience^ 
which  will  illumine  all  of  life,  there  will  nothing 
rest,  save  the  acknowledgement  that  God  is  just. 
This  is  nothing  to  him,  who  believed  and  fell 
asleep  in  Jesus.  The  end  will  reveal  to  him 
also  a  terror-striking  shortage,  but  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  page  will  appear  the  atonement  by 
Christ,  which  covers  everything.  His  judge  is  his 
27» 


Savior.  And  liberated  from  the  curse,  he  enters 
into  eternal   blessedness. 

But  this  opening  of  the  book  of  the  conscience 
will  be  terrible  for  those  who  died  without*  Christ. 
Conversion  will  then  be  too  late.  There  can  be 
no  more  hiding  in  Christ.  Xo  more*  part  can  be 
obtained  in  the  atonement.  There  is  nothing  of 
good  to  balance  the  immeasureable  guilt.  And 
the  sinner  must  faint  under  the  weight  of  a 
sentence,  that  is  read  to  him  in  his  own  con- 
science. And  this  will  be  the  eternal  pain  in  his 
inmost  self,  of  the  worm,  that  restlessly  gnaws, 
without  ever  dying;  and  of  the  heat  in  his  con- 
science of  the  fire,  that  shall  never  be  extin- 
guished. There  is  no  need  of  any  torture  from 
without,  to  be  added  imto  this.  The  fire  itself 
within  is  the  eternal  punishment,  and  this  inner 
consumption  of  self  will  be  as  a  cancer,  that  shall 
eat  into  all  his  being,  and  corrupt  his  entire 
existence.  Even  as  cancer  on  the  outside  occas- 
ions no  pain,  but  that  which  eats  into  the  vitals 
within,  so  will  the  punishment  begin  from  the 
conscience  and   go  through   all   his  existence. 

This  will  be  "  the  knowledge  of  God"  on  the 
part  of  those,  who  here  on  earth,  have  not  willed 
to  know  the  grace  of  God.  This  knowledge  of 
Divine  grace  is  twofold.  On  one  side,  here  on 
earth,  through  faith,  it  is  a  knowledge  of  God 
that  saves.  "This  is  eternal  life  that  they  may 
know  Thee,  the  only  true  God."  But  on  the 
other  side  there  is  a  knowledge  of  God,  which 
only  comes  after  death,  in  the  judgment,  but 
which  for  this  very  reason  brings  no  eternal 
life,    but    eternal    death.      In    the    earth    it    was 

280 


lightly  asserted,  that  there  was  no  God,  or 
that  nothing  of  him  was  known,  or  that  there  was 
no  need  to  concern  oneself  about  him.  But  after 
death  one  stands  before  this  disregarded  God, 
feels  the  terror  of  his  all-pervading  presence,  and 
is  no  longer  able,  try  what  he  may,  to  escape 
from  him.  For  this  is  not  the  end  of  the  judgment, 
that  immediately  after  it,  life  can  be  continued 
in  the  old  forgetfulness,  as  though  there  were  no 
God.  No,  the  self-destroying  impression  received 
of  God,  at  the  moment  of  the  actual  judgment, 
continues,  and  is  never  effaced  again.  It  is 
recorded  of  devils  that  they  well  know  that  God 
is,  and  that  they  tremble.  And  all  who  in  this 
life  have  evaded  God,  will  come  in  the  judg- 
ment, and  after  it,  to  the  terrible  discovery,  that 
they  have  been  mistaken.  They  will  see  with 
their  own  eyes,  that  God  really  exists  and  they 
also  will  tremble. 

Behind  the  veil  of  vi.-ible  thinjrs  in  this  life, 
and  back  of  the  niit-ts  of  our  earthly  limitations, 
one  can  cover  himself  with  the  pretence  that  God 
is  not  seen,  and  thus  persuade  himself  that  there 
is  no  God  because  willfullv  he  does  not  see 
him.  B  't  all  this  ends  wi  Ji  death.  Then  this 
veil  wii:  be  rent  from  the  top  to  the  bottom, 
these  mists  will  lift  themselves,  every  pretence 
will  fall  away,  and  the  majesty  of  the  Lord  God 
will   appear,   and   disclose   itself   in   all   its   glory. 

The  knowledge  of  God,  which  w^as  not  desired 
in  life,  will  then  come  of  itself,  and  deluge  the 
lost.  But  it  will  be  a  repulsive  knowledge,  which 
will  not  draw  them  toward  God,  but  will  make 
them    recoil    from    before    his   terribleness.     And 

281 


wherever  they  may  look,  there  will  be  nothing 
behind  which  to  hide  from  the  sight  of  the 
majesty  of  God.  It  then  becomes  the  heat  of  a 
sun  which  does  not  cherish,  but  sears.  The  Scrip- 
ture calls  it  hell,  and  so  it  is,  but  only  by  what 
God  through  his  sacred  presence  makes  it.  If  God 
could  be  done  away,  or  if  one  could  withdraw  him- 
self from  the  Eternal,  or  hide  from  before  his  Face, 
hell  would  be  ended.  But  this  is  impossible. 
God's  holy  presence  will  not  cease  to  deluge  the 
lost,  and  that  is  eternal  death.  It  is  well  with 
him,  therefore,  who  in  this  life  has  sought  the 
knowledge  of  God  in  Christ.  After  death  this 
knowledge  will  be  for  him  the  drinking  in  of 
Divine  sympathy.  But  w^oe  to  him  who  shall 
only  learn  to  know  God  in  the  judgment.  For 
him  this  knowledge  will  be  nothing  but  horror. 

53 

"DYING    HE    WORSHIPPED." 

In  connection  with  the  knowledge  of  what  lies 
beyond  the  grave  the  moment  of  dying  is  deeply 
significant.  The  way  in  which  we  see  others  die, 
and  in  which  we  die  ourselves,  contributes  to  our 
knowledge  of  God.  In  this  hour  many  things 
that  stood  between  God  and  the  soul  fall  away. 
We  then  stand  on  the  threshold  of  the  unseen  life, 
and  the  words  of  the  Psalmist:  "Our  feet  stand 
within  thy  gates,  O  Jerusalem,"  are  applicable  to 
the  entering  in  through  the  gates  of  the  new 
Jerusalem. 

Let  us  take  dying  in  this  connection  in  its  real 
true    sense.     Dying   is    an    act.     In   our    natural 

282 


birth  we  are  passive.  Life  then  only  begins. 
But  when  God  has  privileged  us  to  reach  the  years 
of  maturity,  and  the  end  has  come,  the  servants 
and  handmaidens  of  the  Lord  should  not  be 
dragged  out  by  death  against  their  will,  but  of 
themselves  they  should  face  it  with  a  will.  And  by 
the  way  in  which  they  do  this,  they  should  reveal 
the  fruit  of  their  labors  of  faith.  The  first  Chris- 
tians sang  hj-mns  of  praise  as  they  carried  out 
their  dead.  And  St.  Paul  said:  "For  me  to  die  is 
gain,  for  to  be  with  Christ  is  by  far  the  best."^ 
Thus  dying  was  the  last  struggle,  but  not  of  one 
who  defends  his  life  against  the  waylayer.  It  was 
much  rather  the  struggle  of  the  hero,  who  bravely 
went  ahead,  in  order  jubilantly  to  come  to  God. 
Indeed,  we  may  not  court  death.  It  is  our 
bounden  duty  to  guard  our  life  unto  the  end. 
Suicide  is  no  dying,  but  self-destruction.  Dying 
is  an  exhibition  of  courage.  Suicide  is  cowardice 
It  is  failure.  It  is  lack  of  daring  to  continue  the 
battle  of  life.  It  is  desertion  from  the  ranks. 
But  though  until  the  end,  as  long  as  there  is 
hope  and  chance,  nothing  must  be  left  untried 
to  continue  God's  serv^ice  on  earth  until  he  issues 
forth  the  call, — when  it  comes,  the  smile  of  sacred 
joy  is  more  in  place  than  the  heaving  of  a  sigh. 
He  who  believes  has  always  confessed  that  he  does 
not  belong  here,  but  that  his  home  is  above. 
Dying  must  make  this  real.  In  dying  the  seal 
must  be  put  upon  all  our  life  of  faith.  Dying  is 
nothing  to  a  child  of  God  save  the  entrance  into 
an  eternal  life.  And  this  it  can  not  be,  unless  it 
is  an  act.  We  must  not  be  overtaken,  lifted  up 
and   carried   off.     We    must   hear   the   call,   and 

283 


answer  in  reply:  ''Behold,  here  I  am,  Lord," 
and  then  bravely  enter  the  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death  and  go  through  it,  knowing  that  the 
Lord  awaits  our  coming,  and  that  by  his  hand  he 
leads  us  through  this  darkness  to  the  light. 

Let  it  be  said  at  once  that  such  ideal  dying 
is  rare.  The  woes  and  sorrows  of  death  often 
rob  dying  of  its  ideal,  exalted  and  sacred  character. 
A  state  of  coma  not  infrequently  prevents  con- 
scious and  willing  dying  as  an  act  of  the  soul. 
It  even  happens,  alas,  that  a  narcotic  potion  is 
adminstered,  whereby  dying  is  degenerated  into 
a  sleeping  of  oneself  awa3^  As  long  however  as 
the  person  himself  is  irresponsible  in  this  matter, 
let  not  such  an  impossibility  of  dying  manfully  in 
the  faith  on  the  part  of  a  child  of  God  be  turned 
into  reproach.  In  this  matter  also  God  is 
sovereign.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  Lord  fre- 
quently withholds  heroic  dying  in  the  full  con- 
sciousness of  faith. 

Care  however  should  be  taken  not  to  condone 
too  much  along  this  line.  The  Scripture  always 
avoids  sentimentalism.  It  rarely  pictures  a  death- 
bed scene.  In  fact  it  only  outlines  the  death  of 
Christ  on  Golgotha,  and  that  of  J;*<"ob.  Of  the 
latter  we  are  told  that  when  he  felt  the  end  draw 
near,  he  strengthened  himself,  and  sat  upon  the 
bed,  and  leaning  upon  the  top  of  his  staff,  wor- 
shipped, and  blessed  his  sons  (Heb.  11:21). 

Jacob  strengthened  himself,  that  is  to  say,  he 
did  not  allow  himself  to  be  overcome  by  weakness 
and  regret,  but  struggled  against  it,  took  hold  of 
himself,    and   gathered    together   the   last    of   his 

284 


waning  strength,  in  order  that  in  dying  he  might 
glorify  his  God.  He  had  no  thought  of  caring 
for  himself,  of  being  concerned  about  his  own 
spiritual  estate,  or  about  breathing  forth  his  latest 
breath.  And  when  he  blesses  his  sons,  it  is  no 
family  affair,  but  an  holy  prophesying  that  through 
his  sons,  as  founders  of  the  tribes  of  Israel,  the 
kingdom  of  God  should  come  and  flourish,  and  the 
Messiah  would  arise.  "Until  Shiloh  come!"  this 
was  the  zenith  of  his  prophecy.  He  blessses  his 
sons,  but  in  and  through  them  his  prophecy  points 
to  the  coming  of  the  Kingdom  of  heaven.  Hence 
the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  describes  this  as  his 
greatest  act  of  faith.  "By  faith,  Jacob  when  he 
was  djdng,  blessed  his  sons  and  worshipped" 
(Heb.   11:21). 

We  do  not  deny  that  in  dying,  darkness  can 
overtake  the  soul.  Satan  can  be  let  loose  to  har- 
rass  our  latest  hour.  But  as  a  rule,  we  may  say 
that  life  is  given  us  for  the  purpose  of  making 
sure  our  faith,  and  that  in  dying  the  results  of  this 
assurance  must  be  shown  to  the  glory  of  the  Lord. 
And  therefore  we  should  not  allow  ourselves  in 
dying  passively  to  be  overcome  by  weakness  and 
grief.  In  the  article  of  death  the  will,  the  courage 
and  the  elasticity  of  faith  must  still  struggle 
against  the  weakness  of  the  flesh.  In  this  holy 
moment,  the  spirit,  and  not  the  flesh  should  con- 
quer. Such  was  the  case  with  Jacob.  He  strength- 
ened himself  in  order  to  be  able  to  die  in  a 
godly  manner.  Had  he  not  done  so,  in  all  prob- 
ability he  too  might  have  passed  away  in  a  semi- 
conscious state.  But  this  he  did  not  do.  His 
285 


mighty  spirit  shook  itself  awake.  In  dying  he 
glorified  God.  In  doing  this  he  left  a  shining  ex- 
ample for  every  Christian  to  imitate. 

There  is  a  meeting  with  God  in  such  dying, 
which  enriches  Divine  knowledge,  both  in  the  one 
who  is  about  to  depart  and  in  those  who  watch 
at  the  bedside.  It  is  generally  reported,  as  a  most 
desirable  way  of  dying,  that  one  quietly  and 
peaceably  fell  asleep.  This  almost  always  means 
that  without  giving  any  further  signs  of  life,  the 
patient  passed  away  in  an  unconscious  state  of 
mind.  This  may  very  well  be  the  case  with 
unbelievers  also.  Of  those  who  die  without  Christ 
it  is  continually  said,  that  they  died  equally 
quietly  and  calmly;  even  perhaps  with  less  per- 
turbation of  mind,  than  many  a  child  of  God 
that  is  harrassed  by  anxiety  and  doubt.  Nothing 
of  a  serious  nature  was  said  to  them.  They  them- 
selves made  no  reference  to  anything.  The  phy- 
sician assured  them  that  there  was  no  need  of 
alarm.  And  so  the  patient  passed  quietly  away, 
without  having  known  any  terror  of  death.  And 
others,  seeing  this,  were  impressed  that  there  is 
really  nothing  to  dying;  it  was  all  so  quiet  and 
gentle.  Then  came  flowers  to  cover  the  bier. 
Visits  of  condolence  are  no  longer  paid.  In  this 
way  nothing  connected  with  death  is  spoken  of. 
And  when  the  funeral  is  over,  ordinary  matters 
form  the  topic  of  conversation,  but  not  the  things 
that  are  eternal.  And  thus  the  mighty  lesson  of 
dying  is  lost.  Death  ceases  to  be  preacher  of 
deeper  seriousness.  And  the  Lord  of  life  and  of 
death  is  not  remembered. 

We,  Christians,  should  not  encourage  this  evil 

286 


practice.  And  yet,  we  do  it,  when  imitating  the 
way  of  the  world  we  say  of  such  dead  that  they 
"peaceably  passed  away."  Not  calmly  and  peace- 
fully, but  fighting  and  conquering  in  the  Savior, 
should  be  the  dying  bed  in  the  Christian  family. 
He  who  has  not  the  heart  for  this,  but  is  careful 
to  spare  the  patient  all  serious  and  disquieting 
thought,  is  not  merciful,  but  through  unbeHef  he 
is  cruel. 

In  dying  Jacob  has  worshipped.  On  the  death 
bed  one  can  pray.  One  can  pray  for  help  in  the 
last  struggle.  Intercession  can  be  made  for  those 
that  are  to  be  left  behind,  and  for  the  Kingdom 
of  God.  By  itself  such  prayer  is  beautiful.  On 
one's  deathbed  to  appear  before  the  face  of  God. 
This  last  prayer  on  earth,  when  every  veil  drops 
away,  and  the  latest  supplication  is  addressed  to 
God,  who  awaits  us  in  the  courts  of  everlasting 
light.  Such  prayer  teaches  those,  who  stand  by, 
to  pray.  Such  prayer  exerts  an  overwhelming, 
fascinating  influence. 

But  Jacob  did  more.  In  dying  he  worshipped. 
In  dying  he  felt  impelled  to  offer  unto  God  the 
sacrifice  of  Worship,  and  to  render  unto  him  praise 
and  thanksgiving  and  honor;  to  lose  himself  in 
the  greatness  and  majesty,  in  the  grace  and  mercy 
of  God ;  and  thus  to  offer  him  the  fruit  of  the  lips, 
better  than  he  had  been  able  to  do  in  life.  Such 
solemn  worship  on  the  deathbed  is  the  summary 
of  the  worship  which  we  have  offered  unto  God 
in  life;  except  that  now  it  is  felt  more  deeply, 
more  intensely,  immediately  preceding  the 
moment,  in  which  among  angels  and  saints  above, 
we  shall  bring  God  the  honor  of  his  Name. 

287 


All  the  knowledge  of  God  that  has  been  acquired 
before  concentrates  itself  in  such  deathbed  wor- 
ship, and  in  that  moment  it  is  wonderfully  illum- 
ined, enriched  and  deepened.  Now  the  dying 
saint  knows  God  more  clearly  than  he  ever  did 
before.    He  almost  sees  God  face  to  face.. 

This  worship  also  bears  fruit  in  behalf  of  those 
who  watch  and  minister  at  the  bedside.  At  a 
deathbed,  love  is  strongly  aroused.  The  begin- 
nings of  mourning  already  struggle  in  the  heart. 
This  makes  it  more  receptive  than  ever,  and  the 
impression  which  it  receives  at  such  a  time  is  over- 
whelming. Ordinarily  it  is  taken  for  granted  that 
one  believes.  But  frequently  no  indications  of  it 
are  seen.  The  contrary  rather  is  suggested  by 
narrow-mindedness  and  sin.  But  when  the 
moment  of  dying  has  come,  and  children  see  it 
of  their  father,  a  husband  of  his  beloved  wife, 
that  in  this  affecting  hour  the  faith  does  not  fail, 
but  is  maintained;  that  at  the  gate  of  eternity 
its  language  becomes  more  animated  and  forceful, 
and  it  seems  that  one  hears  an  utterance  of  the 
soul  after  God,  then  the  prayer  of  worship  from 
the  lips  of  the  dying  brings  you  as  it  were  in  the 
very  presence  of  God,  and  makes  you  feel  that 
he  is  nearer  at  hand  than  you  ever  knew  before. 

Much  dying  would  be  far  different  than  it  now 
is,  had  life  been  different;  if  in  dying,  faith  would 
waken  up  more  fully;  and  if  God's  child  would 
understand  that  even  in  dying  he  has  to  fulfil  a 
duty,  which  he  owes  to  God  and  to  his  fellowmen. 
Then  dying  would  be  far  more  than  now  a  preach- 
ing of  sacred  reality,  and  the  results  of  it  would 
be  effective  in  life  to  the  honor  of  God. 

288 


54 

"GIVE   YOURSELF   TO   FASTING 
AND  PRAYER." 

It  is  a  contradiction  in  terms,  that  while  mem- 
bers of  the  churches  of  the  Reformation  profess 
to  live  according  to  the  precepts  of  Holy  Writ, 
they  do  not  fast.  It  is  certainly  a  Scriptural  rule 
of  life,  not  only  in  the  Old,  but  also  in  the  New 
Testament.  Christ  himself  fasted  forty  days  and 
forty  nights.  St.  Paul  exhorts  the  children  of  God, 
that  they  give  themselves  not  only  to  prayer  but 
also  to  fasting.  What  is  possibly  stronger  still, 
Christ  has  said,  that  there  is  a  kind  of  evil  spirits 
that  "goeth  not  out  but  by  prayer  and  fasting" 
(Matt.  17:21). 

In  the  days  of  Jesus'  ministry  on  earth  the  ques- 
tion arose:  "Why  do  the  disciples  of  the  Phari- 
isees  fast,  but  thy  disciples  fast  not."  Though  it 
may  be  inferred  from  this  that  in  those  days  the 
disciples  did  not  observe  the  Jewish  fasts,  Jesus 
settles  the  question  by  saying:  "When  the  bride- 
groom shall  be  taken  away  from  them,  then  shall 
they  fast"  (Mark  2:18-20).  History  shows  that 
from  the  beginning  the  Church  of  Christ  has  prac- 
ticed fasting.  We  learn  from  Acts  13:2  that  at 
Antioch,  where  the  followers  of  Jesus  were  first 
called  Christians,  as  they  fasted  and  prayed,  the 
Holy  Ghost  gave  them  a  revelation.  It  is  well 
known  that  in  Roman,  Greek  and  Nestorian  com- 
munions fasting  is  observed.  It  is  also  known  that 
in  Reformation  times,  days  of  prayer  went  hand 
in  hand  with  fasting.  Is  it  not  therefore  in  con- 
l,radiction  with  the  significance  which  Scripture 
and  history  attach  to  fastings,  that  among  us  fast- 

289 


ing  is  almost  altogether  abandoned.  It  is  still  our 
habit,  as  it  was  in  the  days  of  Hosea,  to  say: 
'•Our  God,  we  Israel,  know  thee"  (8:2).  But  when 
Scripture  shows  that  the  Knowledge  of  God  is 
greatly  advanced  by  prayer,  and  prayer  by  fast- 
ing, is  there  not  something  lacking,  when  we,  who 
say  that  we  know  God,  do  not  fast? 

The  answer  is  given  in  Is.  58:6.  In  the  days  of 
Isaiah  there  was  much  fasting  observed  in  Judah, 
but  by  his  prophet  Jehovah  declared  that  he 
would  not  accept  this  kind  of  fasting.  "Is  it  such 
a  fast  that  I  have  chosen;  a  day  for  a  man  to 
afflict  his  soul?  to  bow  down  his  head  as  a  bul- 
rush, and  to  spread  sackcloth  and  ashes  under 
him?  .  .  .  "Is  not  this  the  fast  that  I  have 
chosen?  to  loose  the  bands  of  wickedness,  .  .  . 
to  deal  thy  bread  to  the  hungry,  .  .  .  when 
thou  seest  the  naked,  that  thou  cover  him;  and 
that  thou  hide  not  thyself  from  thine  own  flesh? 
Then  shall  thy  Hght  break  forth  as  the  morning, 
and  thine  health  shall  spring  forth  speedily." 

This  striking  protest  against  dead  formalism 
has  justly  aroused  among  us  a  sense  of  aversion 
to  formal  fasting.  As  a  form,  as  a  mere  bodily 
exercise,  and  as  an  exhibition  before  the  world, 
fasting  does  not  sanctify.  Indeed  it  can  work 
profanation.  Hence  Jesus'  warning  in  the  Sermon 
on  the  Mount:  "But  thou,  when  thou  fastest, 
be  not  as  the  hypocrites,  of  a  sad  countenance.  .  . 
but  anoint  thine  head,  and  wash  thy  face,  that 
thou  appear  not  unto  men  to  fast,  but  unto  thy 
Father,  which  is  in  secret;  and  thy  Father,  which 
seeth  in  secret,  shall  reward  thee  openly." 

As  strongly,  however,  as  our  blessed  Lord  de- 
nounces  formal,    outward    fasting,    he    commends 

290 


fasting  of  the  right  sort,  and  declares  that  it  has 
its  reward  of  grace  with  God.  We  are  only  safe 
therefore,  when  on  one  hand  we  oppose  dead 
formalism  in  fasting,  and  on  the  other  hand  bring 
into  practice  the  true  fasting,  which  hsis  been 
appointed  of  God.  And  as  we  look  back  upon  the 
past,  and  look  around  us  in  the  churches,  we  must 
observe  that  dead,  formal  fasting  has  assiduously 
been  abandoned,  and  that  real,  religious,  and 
DiA'inely  appointed  fasting  also  has  almost  utterly 
died  out. 

This  leads  to  spiritual  loss.  We  want  eternal 
life.  "This  is  eternal  life,  that  they  might  know 
thee,  the  only  true  God."  Nothing  advances  one 
in  this  knowledge  of  the  only  true  God  like 
prayer.  And  prayer  becomes  more  fervent  and 
tender  by  fasting.  Can  we  escape  therefore  the 
fatal  conclusion  that  by  the  disuse  of  fasting  our 
prayers  become  less  fervent,  and  that  we  conse- 
quently suffer  loss  in  this  ever  ripening  knowl- 
edge of  God,  which  is  eternal  life? 

If  this  applies  to  ourselves  and  to  our  families, 
does  it  not  equally  apply  to  our  churches?  And 
when  every  time  again  we  observe  in  our 
churches,  that  there  are  evil  spirits  at  large,  which 
can  not  be  driven  out  except  by  fasting  and 
prayer,  is  it  too  much  to  say,  that  the  disuse  of 
fasting  is  one  cause,  among  others,  that  these 
spirits  continue  to  harrass  the  life  of  the  church? 

Should  fasting,  as  a  rule,  on  a  given  day  of  the 
week  be  introduced  again?  By  itself  there  would 
be  nothing  against  this.  But  it  is  to  be  feared 
that  before  long  it  would  end  in  formalism  again. 
Isaiah  58  and  I  Cor.  7:5  show  that  fasting,  in  the 
spiritual  sense,  has  a  much  broader  basis  than  a 

291 


temporary  abstinence  from  food.  It  aims  to  put  | 
an  end  to  the  dominion  of  the  body  over  the  soul, 
and  to  restore  the  soul's  dominion  over  the  body. 
You  know  yourself  that  everything  that  feeds  and 
pleases  the  body  has  a  tendency  to  repress  the 
clearness  and  elasticity  of  the  life  of  the  soul. 
The  side  of  our  life  that  is  turned  toward  the 
world  rarely  operates  in  harmony  with  the  side  of 
our  life  that  is  turned  toward  God.  When  you 
are  alone  you  feel  as  a  rule  closer  to  God  than 
when  you  are  in  company.  In  the  banqueting 
hall  ypu  are  farther  away  from  God  than  in  your 
bedchamber.  In  the  midst  of  the  cares  to  in- 
crease your  wealth  you  enjoy  less  of  God's  pres- 
ence ■'ban  at  the  times  when  you  give  of  your 
money  to  the  poor.  You  are  closer  to  God  when 
you  feed  the  hungry  than  when,  with  your  family 
or  guests,  you  feast  on  choice  foods  and  drinks. 
In  brief,  experience  confirms  again  and  again,  that 
the  less  enjoyment  you  take  in  the  world,  the 
more  intimate  is  your  thought  of  God.  The  more 
you  get  apart  from  the  cares  and  the  joys  of  the 
world,  the  closer  becomes  your  walk  with  God. 

Do  not  infer  from  this,  that  in  order  to  know 
God,  you  must  withdraw  entirely  from  the  world. 
This  is  what  the  Stylists  thought,  the  recluses 
and  contemplative  monks.  This  is  wrong,  because 
"fasting  and  prayer"  is  indeed  one  of  the  means 
by  which  to  find  God,  but  there  are  many  other 
means  to  this  same  end,  which  only  present  them- 
selves in  the  midst  of  the  busy  life.  We  treated 
these  means  in  former  meditations.  We  will  come 
back  to  them  later  on.  But  it  must  be  a  rule  of 
our  life,  not  to  leave  untried  a  single  means,  by 
which  to  grow  in  knowledge  of  the  only  true  God, 

292 


and  that  therefore  we  have  to  serve  God  as  much 
in  the  midst  of  the  world,  and  in  the  enjoyment 
of  his  blessings  in  our  families  and  surroundings, 
as  in  our  practice  of  "fasting  and  prayer."  For  it 
can  not  be  denied,  that  it  is  helpful  and  beneficial, 
purposely,  from  time  to  time,  to  break  away  from 
the  overwhelming  dominion  of  the  body  and  the 
world,  and  thereby  make  ourselves  more  suscept- 
ible to  the  influences  from  above.  To  this  end 
one  will  be  more  impressed  with  the  need  of  fast- 
ing and  retirement  at  set  times.  Another  will 
only  come  to  it  in  moments  of  anxiety  and  deep- 
ening seriousness.  Let  every  one  with  respect  to 
this  be  sure  in  his  own  conscience.  It  may  depend 
on  temperament  and  circumstances.  Let  no  one 
judge  his  brother. 

But  the  practice  itself  has  a  right  of  being 
introduced  into  the  habits  of  life.  Our  first  interest 
is  eternal  life.  This  can  only  be  tasted  in  an  ever 
deeper  knowledge  of  God.  This  in  turn  is  fed  by 
secret  prayer.  And  secret  prayer  has  need,  that 
in  the  face  of  the  offensive  dominion  of  the  body 
and  the  environments,  the  dominion  of  the  soul 
be  strengthened  by  fasting  rightly  understood. 
That  sobriety  in  food  and  drink  is  an  aid  in  this 
direction,  appears  from  the  difficulty  to  pray, 
which  you  find  upon  your  return  from  a  banquet- 
hall.  But  this  is  merely  the  beginning  of  real 
fasting.  It  is  not  only  abundance  of  food  and 
drink,  but  extravagance  as  well  in  ornaments  and 
clothes,  in  diversions  and  satisfactions  of  the 
senses,  and  in  financial  cares,  voluntary  or  invol- 
untary, that  harmfully  affect  your  approach  to 
God.  Fasting,  therefore,  as  an  aid  to  sanctify 
prayer  and  to  make  it  more  fervent,  is  by  no 

293 


means  alone  the  depriving  of  the  body  of  food 
and  drink,  but  the  withdrawal  of  self  by  generosity 
from  the  dominion  of  money,  by  sobriety  and  sim- 
plicity of  life  to  liberate  oneself  from  the  power 
of  self-indulgence,  and  certainly  also  by  seclusion 
to  escape  the  mastery  of  environment. 

This  is  what  the  Lord  declared,  when  he  ex- 
tended fasting  to  loosening  the  bands  of  wicked- 
ness, and  to  feeding  the  hungry.  From  time  to 
time  the  soul  must  set  itself  free,  cast  away  all 
bands  and  become  entirely  itself.  Then  the  gates 
lift  up  their  heads,  then  the  door  of  eternity  is 
opened,  and  God  makes  his  approach  to  us,  and 
our  soul  its  approach  to  God,  and  the  knowledge 
of  God,  which  is  eternal  life,  blossoms  in  the 
sanctuary  of  the  heart. 

55 

''NO  PRAYER  COULD  PASS 
THROUGH." 

When  a  child  wants  to  ask  his  father  for  some- 
thing, he  first  seeks  him,  and  only  when  he  has 
found  him,  can  he  ask  for  what  he  wants.  To 
state  his  request  before  his  father  is  found  is 
folly  on  the  part  of  the  child.  Is  not  this  an 
instruction  in  prayer? 

He  who  as  a  child  of  God  would  pray  to  his 
Father  in  heaven,  and  in  faith  ask  something 
from  him,  must  first  make  his  approach  to  God. 
He  must  first  seek  the  Divine  Presence.  And 
only  when  he  has  found  the  Lord,  can  he  ask  for 
what  he  wants.  This  is  little  thought  of  in 
prayer.  We  frequently  observe  that  in  our 
294 


prayers,  and  in  those  of  others,  there  is  more 
speaking  in  the  air,  than  prayer  and  address  to 
the  living  God.  Can  it  be  denied  that  in  extem- 
poraiy  prayer  before  others,  and  even  in  pubHc 
worship,  there  is  more  argumentation  and  reason- 
ing, than  real  appeal  to  the  most  High,  who  is 
clothed  with  Majesty. 

Less  can  be  said  about  secret  prayer.  Each  man 
knows  only  his  own  prayer,  and  what  others  may 
tell  him  of  theirs.  But  though  we  confine  our- 
selves to  this,  the  complaints  uttered  in  a  brother's 
ear  about  the  barrenness  of  prayer,  are  such,  as 
to  justify  the  fear,  that  the  recital  of  words  begins, 
before  the  soul  has  consciously  entered  the  pres- 
ence of  God.  Frequent  and  long  prayers  encour- 
age this  habit.  The  eyes  close,  the  hands  are 
folded,  and  one  begins  certain  known  formal 
prayers,  which  though  not  irreverent,  are  out  of 
harmony  with  the  very  deep  reverence  which  is 
God's  due. 

The  Scripture  repeatedly  shows  that  not  every 
prayer  counts  as  such  with  God.  It  speaks  of 
moments  in  which  our  prayers  are  hindered.  It 
makes  us  hear  the  word  of  the  Lord:  "When  ye 
make  many  prayers,  I  will  not  hear"  (Is.  1:15); 
and  it  records  the  complaint  of  the  prophet: 
"that  no  prayer  passed  through  unto  God"  (Lam. 
3:44).  Then  heaven  is  as  brass;  there  is  no  open- 
ing and  no  disclosing;  there  is  no  access  and  no 
entrance,  and  no  spirit  of  prayer  and  supplication. 

In  Zion  there  was  "an  oracle  of  God's  holiness." 
When  a  godly  Jew  wandered  in  the  mountains,  or 
dwelt  by  the  Jordan,  he  turned  himself  in  prayer 
toward  this  oracle  (Ps.  28:2).    When  Israel  was  in 

295 


exile,  they  prayed  with  their  faces  toward  Zion. 
As  an  after  effect  of  this  habit  we  still  find  in 
many  countries,  that  people  do  not  pray  at  home, 
but  in  churches.  Such  churches  are  open  all  day, 
and  in  the  solemn  stillness  of  such  stately  edifices 
one  kneels  down,  unobserved  and  unknown,  in  the 
expectation  that  in  these  impressive  places  the 
presence  of  the  Lord  will  make  itself  felt  more 
effectively. 

This  is  unquestionably  a  great  privilege  for 
those  who  live  in  crowded  cities.  He  who  has  a 
room  at  home,  where  he  can  lock  the  door,  in 
order  to  be  alone  with  God,  has  no  need  of  it. 
But  the  great  masses  of  people  are  not  so  fortu- 
nate. At  home  they  are  almost  never  alone,  it  is 
almost  never  quiet,  and  seclusion  which  is  so  help- 
ful to  prayer,  can  almost  never  be  found. 

Apart  also  from  this  difl&culty,  it  must  not  be 
forgotten,  that  in  Israel  God  himself  had  ap- 
pointed such  an  oracle  of  his  holiness,  and  had 
directed  the  souls  of  the  faithful  toward  it.  It 
was  a  means  of  cultivating  real  prayer.  It  every- 
time  reminded  the  godly  Jew  that  in  order  to 
pray  he  must  first  look  to  God  with  the  eye  of 
the  soul,  and  that  before  prayer,  connection  must 
be  made  between  the  soul  and  God.  To  pray 
without  first  finding  God,  and  knowing  that  one 
speaks  to  him,  is  really  a  caricature  of  prayer.  If 
we  would  pray  we  should  know,  that  at  that  very 
moment  God  attends  to  the  voice  of  our  prayer; 
that  he  inclines  his  ear  to  our  prayer;  and  that 
he  listens  to  the  voice  of  our  supplication.  And 
this  spiritual  perception  can  not  be  awake  in  the 
soul,  unless,  before  prayer,  we  consciously  place 
ourselves  in  the  Divine  Presence. 

296 


God's  child  always  prays  in  Jesus'  name.  He 
must  do  this,  because  irreconciled  and  unredeemed, 
he  would  find  no  listening  ear  with  God,  But  even 
prayer  in  Jesus'  name  becomes  a  word  without 
meaning,  when  one  does  not  first  place  himself 
before  the  face  of  the  Holy  One,  and  feels  that 
of  himself  there  is  no  approach  to  God,  and  that 
he  only  appears  before  God  in  Christ. 

In  this  connection  the  diflaculty  is  God's,  omni- 
presence. The-  very  perception  of  faith  that  God 
is  not  bound  to  either  time  or  place,  but  that  he 
is  everywhere  present^  accounts  for  the  fact,  that 
one  inclines  to  speak  without  first  concentrating 
his  thoughts  upon  God,  placing  him  before  the 
eyes,  and  seeking  his  presence  until  it  is  found. 

In  his  Word  God  teaches  us  otherwise.  For 
though  the  Scripture  reveals  to  us  in  most  glorious 
terms  the  omnipresence  of  God,  in  behalf  of 
prayer  it  can  only  mean,  that  wherever  we  are, 
we  are  always  and  everywhere  able  to  find  God. 
But  it  reveals  with  equal  emphasis  that  in  what- 
ever place  we  are,  we  have  to  do  with  the  living 
God,  who  besets  us  behind  and  before,  who  com- 
passes our  path  and  our  lying  down,  and  who  is 
acquainted  with  all  our  ways  (Ps.  139:5,  2).  In 
addition  to  this  it  always  points  us  upward.  We 
must  lift  up  our  soul  in  prayer.  Our  prayerful 
thoughts  must  direct  themselves  to  the  heavens, 
where  is  a  throne  of  grace,  glorious  with  Divine 
Majesty.  It  is  the  palace  above  whither  our 
prayers  ascend.  It  is  the  living,  personal  God  who 
inclines  himself  to  us  and  toward  Whom  our  pray- 
ing soul  must  turn. 

The  imagination  can  lend  no  help  in  this,  for 
God  is  a  Spirit,  and  they  that  worship  him,  must 

297 


worship  in  spirit  and  in  truth.  But  he  who  knows 
God  as  his  Father  who  is  in  heaven,  also  knows 
that  in  prayer  he  has  no  deahngs  with  a  force 
that  extends  and  spreads  itself  everywhere,  but 
with  his  covenant  God,  his  Lord  and  King,  and 
that  he  can  not  rest  content  until,  in  order  to 
pray,  he  has  resumed  his  secret  walk  with  God 
and  has  obtained  anew  communion  with  his 
Redeemer.  Before  the  days  of  telegraph  and  tele- 
phone this  seemed  far  more  mysterious  than  now. 
From  experience  we  know  that  there  is  communion 
between  people  at  immeasurable  distances,  which 
is  supported  by  nothing  but  a  weak  metal  thread. 
And  even  this  thread  has  been  ignored.  There  is 
now  a  telegraphic  communication  without  thread, 
which  in  its  vvondrous  working  has  become  a 
beautiful  image  of  praj^er.  So-called  telepathy 
also  comes  to  our  aid.  The  authenticated  facts 
that  persons  at  far  distances  can  have  fellowship 
of  soul  with  soul  and  communication  of  thoughts, 
is  an  indication,  that  our  soul  can  have  like  fel- 
lowship with  God,  because,  when  the  human  soul 
is  able  to  do  this,  the  means  of  spiritual  fellow- 
ship are  infinitely  much  greater  with  God. 

The  point  is  that  with  respect  to  prayer  we 
must  regard  the  indispensableness  of  this  fellow- 
ship, and  that  we  must  not  pray,  until  we  have 
obtained  this  connection  and  fellowship  with,  and 
approach  to,  God.  When  Jeremiah  complains 
that  his  prayer  did  not  pass  through,  because  God 
had  covered  himself  with  a  cloud,  he  shows  that 
he  had  sought  this  fellowship,  and  that  he  had 
perceived  his  inability  to  obtain  connection.  As 
when  one  stands  before  the  telephone,  and  rings 
up  central,  and  gets  no  hearing  because  the  wire 


is  broken,  so  he  who  prays  stands  at  the  gate  of 
heaven,  and  calls  upon  God  for  a  hearing,  and 
seeks  connection  of  fellowship,  but  gets  no  sign  of 
life  in  return.  This  but  shows,  that  real  prayer 
can  not  begin  until  a  hearing  is  obtained,  and 
connection  has  been  established,  and  we  know 
that  God  has  disclosed  his  face  to  us.  If  this 
fails,  prayer  is  hindered.  The  fault  lies  with  us, 
either  because  of  sin,  or  because  our  thoughts 
wander,  or  because  we  are  engaged  with  worldly 
concerns,  or  because  the  heart  is  not  rightly 
attuned,  or  because  of  the  superficiality  and  ex- 
ternality^ of  the  condition  of  the  soul. 

This  does  not  disturb  the  man  who  prays  from 
sheer  habit.  He  prays  anyhow,  whether  he  has 
any  feeling  or  perception  of  connection  or  not, 
and  even  though  he  is  aware  that  his  prayer  does 
not  pass  through.  He  has  said  his  prayers,  and 
that  is  the  end  of  it.  But  the  trul}^  godly  man 
at  prayer  does  not  behave  like  this.  If  he  feels 
that  there  is  an  hindrance,  if  he  is  aware  that 
there  is  a  cloud  between  himself  and  God,  he 
turns  in  upon  himself,  he  humbles  himself  before 
God  and  seeks  cleansing  in  the  blood  of  his 
Savior.  And  then  connection  follows,  the  gates  of 
heaven  swing  open  to  him,  and  in  the  end  his 
prayer  passes  through  and  ascends  before  the  face 
of  the  Holy  One. 

This  is  the  sanctifying  power  of  the  conscien- 
tious practice  of  prayer.  At  first  there  is  no 
prayer.  But  one  does  not  rise  from  his  knees 
until  prayer  comes  and  access  to  the  throne  of 
grace  has  been  obtained.  And  in  this  very  strug- 
gle, sin  is  broken  and  grace  in  Christ  is  restored. 

299 


56 

"TO  WHOMSOEVER  THE  SON 
WILL  REVEAL  HIM" 

When  we  read  in  Romans  1 :20  that  '"The  invis- 
ible things  of  him  from  the  creation  of  the  world 
are  clearly  seen,  being  understood  by  the  things- 
that  are  made,"  and  in  Matthew  11:27  that  "no 
one  knoweth  the  Father,  save  the  Son,  and  he  to 
whomsoever  the  Son  will  reveal  him,"  these 
two  passages  seemingly  contradict  each  other,  but 
not  in  fact.  Every  man  can  know  God  in  all  sorts 
of  ways.  This  was  not  only  so  in  Paradise,  but 
still  continues  so  in  this  fallen  world,  even  in 
those  parts  that  are  under  the  curse  of  heathen- 
dom. The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God  and 
the  firmament  sheweth  his  handiwork,  Day 
unto  day  uttereth  speech,  and  night  unto  night 
sheweth  knowledge.  There  is  no  speech  nor 
country,  there  is  no  people  known,  even  unto 
the  world's  end,  which  does  not .  hear  the  voice 
of  the  heavens.  And  not  only  does  nature,  which 
pulsates  with  life,  pour  forth  speech  for  every 
one  who  does  not  purposel}''  stop  his  ear;  but 
there  is  a  speech  of  God  in  the  conscience, 
that  goes  forth  to  every  people  and  nation.  It 
is  not  recorded  of  the  first  created  human  pair  in 
Paradise,  but  of  the  heathen  in  the  corrupted 
age  of  the  Caesars  that  they  "shew  the  work  of 
the  Law  written  in  their  hearts,  their  conscience 
also  bearing  witness,  and  their  thoughts  the 
meanwhile  accusing  or  else  excusing  one  another" 
(Rom.  2:15).  The  form  in  which  the  knowledge 
of  God  and  of  his  Will  expresses  itself,  may  be 
idolatrous  and  oftentimes  offensive,  but  the  ira- 

300 


pulse  from  which  it  proceeds,  is  never  anything 
else,  then  the  mistaken  interpretation  of  the 
speech  of  God  in  nature  and  in  the  conscience. 
This  is  the  seed  of  religion  of  which  Calvin  bore 
witness,  the  increated  knowledge  of  God  and 
the  given  knowledge  of  God,  which  was  ever 
confessed  by  our  fathers.  This  was  not  confessed 
for  the  sake  of  glorifying  man,  who  fell,  but 
contrariwise,  to  render  the  sinner  inexcusable  be- 
fore God.  Fallen  humanity  as  such,  and  every 
individual  sinner  in  the  same,  stands  deeply 
guilty  before  God,  because  he  whose  eye  is  fully 
open,  and  whose  conscience  reacts  properly,  per- 
ceives the  eternal  power  and  Godhead  of  the 
Lord  Jehovah  in  himself,  and  everywhere  around 
him  in  nature  and  in  history.  Such  being  the 
case,  how  are  we  to  understand  the  words  of 
Christ,  that  no  one  knoweth  the  Father,  save  the 
Son,  and  he  to  whomsoever  the  Son  will  reveal 
him? 

It  does  not  say,  that  no  one  can  have  any 
knowledge  of  God  save  through  the  Son,  but 
that  no  one  knoweth  the  Father,  except  he  to 
whom  the  Son  has  revealed  him.  Of  Satan  and 
his  angels  it  is  clearly  stated  that  they  know  God 
and  tremble.  This  could  not  be  otherwise.  Satan's 
fall  was  nothing  else  than  rebellion  against  God, 
evil  lust  to  dethrone  the  Almighty  and  to  put 
himself  in  his  place.  And  how  could  this  have 
been  thinkable,  unless  he  had  known  the  existence 
and  omnipotence  of  God?  But  every  one  under- 
stands at  once  that  although  Satan  knows  God, 
he  has  never  known  the  Father.  He  who  knows 
the  Father  is  comforted  and  reconciled.  Satan, 
on   the    contrary,   whenever   he   thinks   of   God, 

301 


trembles.  The  knowledge  of  the  Father  maketh 
rich,  gives  peace  and  eternal  rest.  The  knowl- 
edge which  Satan  has  of  God  makes  him  tremble. 
This  is  the  difference  between  Satan  and  a  great 
sinner  on  earth.  While  the  criminal  can  take  a 
sleeping  draught  to  quiet  his  conscience  and  to 
forget  God,  Satan  can  not  do  this.  This  sleeping- 
draught  of  sin  is  impossible  for  him.  His 
perception  of  God's  Almighty  presence  speaks  to 
him  loudly  from  moment  to  moment,  and  there- 
fore he  trembles.  From  this  the  miserable  estate 
of  the  lost  in  the  eternal  fire  is  equally  clear.  The 
ungodly  in  the  earth  can  put  their  conscience  to 
sleep  and  as  a  rule  live  free  from  anxiety  in  the 
midst  of  sin.  There  are  those  whose  consciences 
are  so  seared,  that  only  now  and  then,  in  moments 
of  intense  commotion,  they  feel  the  wrath  of  God. 
and  for  the  rest  of  the  time  live  on  in  their  sin, 
without  any  disturbing  fear  of  God,  just  because 
they  close  their  eyes  and  stop  their  ears.  But 
when  once  this  life  is  ended,  and  they  go  into 
eternity,  this  too  will  end.  Then  their  eyes  will 
fully  open,  so  that  they  will  never  be  able  to 
close  them  again,  and  their  ears  v/ill  be  unstopped, 
so  that  they  will  never  be  able  to  stop  them 
again.  And  with  open  ej-e  and  ear  eternally 
to  be  subject  to  the  omnipotence  of  God  will  be 
their  miserable  destinJ^ 

If  no  one  can  know  the  Father  save  as  the 
Son  reveals  him  unto  us,  it  is  evident,  that  this 
does  not  imply  the  general  knowledge  of  God, 
which  is  within  human  reach  everywhere,  but  the 
knowledge  of  God's  everlasting  compassion,  which 
the  sinner  can  not  share,  until  reconciled  in 
Christ  he  has  become  a  child  of  God,  and  has 

302 


learned  to  know  God  as  his  Father,  and  himself 
as  this  heavenly  Father's  child. 

There  is  no  mention  here  of  a  doctrine,  which 
is  committed  to  memory  or  of  a  revelation  that 
has  been  given  in  so  many  words,  which  we 
are  to  make  our  own,  but  of  a  knowledge  which 
spiritual  experience  of  personal  redemption  and 
reconciliation  imparts  to  us.  This  certainly  im- 
plies a  revelation  to  the  understanding.  ''We  know 
that  the  Son  of  God  is  come,  and  hath  given  us 
an  understanding,  that  we  may  know  him  that 
is  true"  (I  John  5:20).  All  revelation  begins  with 
the  Word.  When  the  Christ  appeared,  he  went 
through  the  land  preaching  the  gospel  of  the 
Kingdom.  The  gospel  itself  is  a  glad  tiding  of 
salvation  which  is  to  come,  and  of  redemption 
which  is  announced.  But  this  preaching,  this 
glad  evangel,  these  words  of  the  gospel  are  not 
enough.  These  can  be  learned  by  rote.  These 
can  be  committed  to  memorj',  but  they  can 
not  bring  us  the  knowledge  of  the  Father.  This 
glad  evangel  by  itself,  even  though  we  accept  it 
in  its  entirety,  and  without  hesitation,  never 
brings  us  further  than  to  say  ''Lord,  Lord!"  It 
is  with  this  as  in  the  days  of  Hosea,  (8:2)  when 
all  the  people  said:  "Lord,  we  thy  Israel,  know 
thee."  even  while  the  anger  of  the  Lord  was 
kindled  against  them  to  the  point  of  destruction, 
just  because  they  knew  not  God.  Even  if 
therefore  this  doctrine,  this  message,  this  word 
of  the  gospel  was  carried  into  the  world  first  by 
the  apostles,  and  after  that  by  preaching,  and  by 
the  Scripture,  by  itself  it  can  not  impart  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  Father.  This  knowledge  only  comes, 
when  the  glorified  Christ  through  the  Holy  Spirit 

303 


imparts  unto  us  the  riches  of  his  reconciliation, 
when  he  seeks  us  out  as  sinners,  and  makes  us 
children  of  God.  Only  when  Christ  has  made  us 
children  of  God,  does  the  knowledge  of  the  Father 
become   our  blessed  and  glorious  possession. 

But  again,  Christ  does  not  come  to  us  for  the 
first  time  in  the  work  of  redemption.  He  is 
the  Eternal  Word,  which  was  before  all  things 
with  God  and  was  God.  All  nature,  with  the 
revelation  of  God  which  it  contains  is  created 
by  him.  He  is  the  Word.  No  speech  goes  forth 
from  nature  without  him.  Without  the  Eternal 
Word  nature  would  be  dead  and  dumb,  and 
would  have  nothing  to  say  to  us.  And  not  only 
has  nature  been  created  by  the  Eternal  Word, 
and  endowed  with  a  b.nguage  of  its  own,  but  we 
ourselves,  in  the  midst  of  nature,  would  not  have 
come  into  this  world,  but  for  Christ.  The  whole 
scope  of  our  human  nature  is  from  him.  We  too 
have  been  created  by  him.  Our  whole  spiritual  dis- 
position, and  our  capacity  to  overhear  and  under- 
stand nature,  have  been  implanted  in  us  by  him. 
The  same  is  true  of  our  moral  being.  Christ  has 
given  us  our  conscience.  He  is  himself  the  con- 
science of  mankind.  The  fellowship  of  our  hearts 
with  the  moral  world  order,  our  perceptions  of 
good  and  evil,  of  right  and  wrong,  of  what  fills 
one  with  horror  and  inspires  one  through  beauty, 
of  selfishness  and  love,  of  light  and  darkness — 
these  have  all  come  to  us  from  the  Eternal 
Word. 

Hence  it  can  not  be  said  either  that  we  know 
God  apart  from  Christ,  or  that  only  in  and  by 
Christ  this  known  God  is  revealed  to  us  as 
our   Father.     For   the   broad   foundation   of   the 

304 


knowledge  of  God,  on  wiiich  the  knowledge 
of  the  Father  is  built,  comes  to  us  from  the 
Eternal  Word.  The  knowledge  of  the  Father 
is  not  a  flower,  that  has  been  wafted  down 
from  the  heavenly  regions,  and  has  been  tied 
by  Christ  to  the  withered  stem  of  human  nature ; 
but  the  withered  state  of  our  sinful  nature  has 
been  revived  by  him  with  a  new  life,  and  the 
knowledge  of  the  Father  has  been  engrafted  upon 
the  knowledge  of  God  that  comes  to  us  through 
nature,  and  through  the  conscience,  by  virtue 
of  our  creation  from  the  Eternal  Word.  Hence 
these  are  not  two  kinds  of  knowledge,  without 
an  inner  relation,  standing  externally  side  by 
side  and  joined  together.  But  it  is  one  knowledge 
of  God,  which  comes  to  us  fiom  the  Eternal 
Word,  which  arises  in  us  through  the  instrument- 
ality of  nature  and  of  the  conscience,  and 
which  in  and  through  the  redemptive  work 
of  the  Messiah  is  elevated  and  carried  up  to 
the  knowledge   of  the   Father. 

It  is  a  detriment  to  the  faith,  therefore,  which 
avenges  itself  bitterly,  when  he  who  is  converted 
rests  content  with  the  work  of  redemption,  as 
though  it  comprises  the  sole  glory  of  Christ,  and 
abandons  the  knowledge  of  God  from  nature  and 
the  conscience  to  the  world.  He  who,  reconciled 
in  Christ,  kneels  as  God's  child  before  his 
Heavenly  Father,  must  let  the  light  that  has 
appeared  to  him  in  Christ,  operate  reflexively 
upon  the  revelation  of  God  in  nature  and  upon 
the  revelation  of  God  in  human  nature,  both 
of  which  have  their  origin  in  Christ.  St.  John 
begins  his  Gospel  by  pointing  out  the  relation 
which  Christ  sustains  to  the  creation  of  the  world, 

305 


to  the  creation  of  our  own  nature,  and  to  the 
creation  of  our  own  person.  And  this  is  the  result. 
Thanks  to  our  reconciliation  in  Christ  the  voice  of 
God  in  nature  and  the  voice  of  God  in  our  con- 
science obtain  a  different  sound.  They  increase  in 
clearness  and  in  significance.  And  by  the  opened 
ear  they  are  heard  with  a  clarity  which  blends  the 
life  of  grace  with  the  life  of  nature  in  glorious 
harmony  and  turns  the  whole  world,  and  all 
history  including  our  own  lives,  into  one  Mighty 
revelation  of  the  Father,  whom  we  worship  in  the 
face  of  his  Son. 

57 

'1  AM  CONTINUALLY 
WITH   THEE." 

We  may  sit  for  hours  by  the  side  of  a  person 
and  hold  no  fellowship  with  him.  In  long  railway 
journeys  we  may  spend  several  days  in  the  com- 
pany of  others,  and  not  so  much  as  learn  their 
names,  or  know  anything  about  them.  On  the 
other  hand  we  may  be  miles  apart  from  a  friend, 
and  be  continually  engaged  with  him,  so  that 
we  scarcely  think  of  anything  but  of  him,  and 
in  spirit  enjoy  closest  fellowship  with  his  spirit. 
It  may  sound  strangely,  but  such  is  the  fact. 
A  mother  who  has  lost  her  darling  child  was  never 
so  closely  united  in  soul  with  the  soul  of  her  child 
as  during  the  first  hours  after  death,  when  the 
little  one  went  far  away  from  her. 

Fellowship  of  soul  with  soul  may  be  greatly 
aided  by  personal  presence,  facial  expression  and 
mutual  exchange  of  thoughts,  but  is  not  dependent 
upon  them.  In  close  fellowship  of  soul  with  soul 

306 


we  crave  personal  presence.  Human  nature  consists 
of  soul  and  body,  and  is  only  fully  satisfied  when 
fellowship  of  soul  with  soul  is  accompanied  by 
physical  presence.  In  the  realm  of  glory,  commun- 
ion with  God's  saints  will  only  be  made  perfect 
by  the  sight  of  one  another  in  the  glorified  body. 
Fellowship  among  the  redeemed  in  the  Father- 
house  above,  bears  a  provisional  character  until 
the  resurrection,  and  awaits  perfection  in  the 
return  of  Jesus.  But  however  deeply  significant 
personal  presence  and  sight  may  be,  presence  of 
soul  with  soul  does  not  depend  on  it.  As  God 
created  us  we  are  able,  though  separated  in  the 
body,  to  have  close  fellowship  one  with  the  other, 
either  by  writing,  telephone  or  telegraphy,  and 
also  apart  from  all  this,  in  a  purely  spiritual 
way  in  feeling,  perceptions,  thoughts  and  imagina- 
tion. Personal  presence  alone  does  not  afford 
human  fellowship;  for  this  is  always  fellowship 
of  spirit  w^th  spirit,  of  soul  with  soul,  of  heart, 
with  heart.  And  the  question  whether  we  live  near 
by  a  person  or  far  away  from  him  is  not  answered 
by  distance  or  proximity  but  only  and  alone  by 
spiritual  nearness  or  estrangement.  When  parting 
from  a  loved  one  for  a  long  term  of  years,  even 
also  at  the  last  farewell  before  djang,  we  can  assure 
him:  "I  shall  continually  be  with  yon."  And  many 
a  mother  with  reference  to  her  child,  and  many  a 
widow  with  reference  to  her  late  husband,  have 
literally  fulfilled  it.  The  child,  the  husband  were 
gone  from  the  earth,  but  fellowship  continued, 
unseen,  awaiting  the  re-union. 

When  Asaph  sings  in  Ps.  73:23  ''Nevertheless 
I  am  contimiallly  with  Thee"  it  can  only  be  taken 
in  the  sense  of  this  spiritual  fellowship.     Locally 

307 


we  are  never  separated  from  God.  We  can  Qot 
be  anywhere  and  God  not  be  near.  He  besets 
us  behind  and  before.  Whither  shall  we  go  from 
his  Spirit,  whither  shall  we  flee  from  his  presence. 
We  can  not  escape  the  presence  of  God.  "If  I 
make  my  bed  in  hell,"  sings  David,  Ps.  139.  ''be- 
hold Thou  art  there.  If  I  take  the  wings  of  the 
morning,  and  dwell  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the 
sea,  even  there  shall  Thy  hand  lead  me,  and 
Thy  right  hand  shall  hold  me,"  God  is  never 
away  from  us.  He  can  not  be  away  from  us,  neither 
can  we  be  away  from  Him.  He  is  the  Omni- 
present One.  And  his  almighty  power  is  operative 
every  moment  in  every  pulse-beat  of  the  blood, 
in  every  quiver  of  the  nerves,  and  in  every  breath 
we  draw. 

But  this  Divine  Omnipresence  does  not  con- 
situte  fellowship  of  our  spirit  with  the  Spirit  of 
God.  Two  things  are  necessary  for  this.  First 
that  God  makes  his  approach  to  our  spirit  and 
reveals  to  us  the  tokens  of  his  holy  presence  with- 
in; and  again,  that  our  spirit  opens  itself  to  the 
Spirit  of  God,  allows  him  to  come  in,  goes  out 
toward  him,  and  in  seeking  him  will  not  rest 
until  it  finds  him.  The  approach  of  the  Spiiit 
of  God  to  our  spirit  may  impart  a  mere  superficial 
impression,  and  no  more.  In  this  sense  there  is 
scarely  anyone  who  at  sometime  or  other 
in  his  life  has  not  been  aware  of  a  certain  impulse 
from  God  in  the  soul.  This  has  been  perceived 
in  the  midst  of  sin.  It  is  different,  however,  when 
the  Lord  God  discloses  himself  to  us,  makes  him- 
self known,  taking  up  his  abode  in  the  soul,  and 
annouces  himself  as  the  secret  friend  of  the  heart. 
Then   alone  the   secret  walk  with   God  becomes 


possible,  and  He  is  sovereign  to  grant  liis 
fellowship  to  the  soul  or  to  withhold  it.  Let 
him  who  received  it,  therefore,  take  thought, 
that  thereby  he  was  granted  a  privilege 
above  all  other  privileges,  a  royal,  heavenly  and 
Divine  grace  of  highest  worth.  And  that  we  take 
this  blessedness  at  this  high  worth  will  be  evident 
from  the  fact,  whether  we  in  turn  unlock  our 
heart  to  the  Eternal,  and,  not  once  in  a  while,  but 
continuously,  seek  to  enjoy  this  inward,  secret 
fellowship  with  God. 

In  the  song  of  Asaph  in  hand  the  word  "con- 
tinually" must  be  taken  in  its  literal  sense;  not 
from  time  to  time;  not  once  in  a  while;  but  con- 
tinuously all  the  time  without  ceasing.  He  had 
enjoyed  the  blessedness  of  fellowship  with  God, 
but  at  intervals,  from  time  to  time.  For  a  while 
he  lived  ''near  unto  God,"  and  for  a  while  he 
was  away  from  God,  and  thereby  his  soul  had 
erred.  He  felt  that  he  had  wandered  off,  and 
that  he  had  been  at  the  point  of  becoming 
unfaithful  to  God's  children.  From  this  mael- 
strom he  only  found  deliverance  when  he  returned 
to  the  sanctuary  of  God  and  opened  his  soul 
again  to  Divin©  fellowship.  This  bitter  experi- 
ence of  soul  led  him  to  change  his  course.  Not 
as  had  been  his  habit,  to  seek  fellowship  with 
God  in  the  midst  of  all  sorts  of  distractions,  and 
then  to  wander  away  again  from  him,  but  from 
now  on,  continually,  all  the  time,  without  resting 
and  without  ceasing  to  be  with  God.  (Dutch 
version:  "I  will  then  continually  be  with  Thee"). 
Not  from  now  on  to  be  absorbed  in  holy  medita- 
tion in  order  through  the  imagination,  representa- 
tion and  deep  mysticism  to  lose  himself  in  fellow- 

309 


ship  with  the  Divine  Being.  For  though,  provided 
it  is  applied  with  utmost  care,  such  losing  of  one- 
self in  spiritual  vision  of  the  Infinite,  as  result  of 
private  prayer,  can  have  a  value  of  its  own.  It 
is  not  what  continually  being  ''near  unto  God" 
implies.  It  can  not  mean  this  because  in 
holy,  mj'stical  meditation  the  other  operations 
of  our  spirit  are  an-ested,  with  this  result, 
that  we  stand  helpless  in  the  face  of  our 
work  in  the  world,  so  that  nothing  can  come  of 
doing  God's  will,  while  on  the  contrary,  close 
fellowship  with  God  must  become  actual  in  the 
full  and  vigorous  revelation  of  our  life.  It  must 
permeate  and  give  color  to  our  feeling,  perceptions, 
sensations,  thoughts,  imagination,  purposes,  acts 
and  words.  It  must  not  stand  as  a  foreign  factor 
by  the  side  of  our  life,  but  be  the  glow  that 
casts  it  sheen  upon  our  whole  existence.  This 
can  not  be  so  with  fellowship  of  man  with  man, 
but  only  with  the  fellowship  with  God,  because 
in  and  from  and  to  God  are  the  issues  of  all  holy 
and  of  all  creaturely  utterances  of  life. 

Asaph  did  not  aim  therefore  at  inactive 
meditation,  but  at  a  fundamental  tone,  a  fund- 
amental temper  of  mind  and  heart,  which  con- 
tinually lifts  itself  in  praise  and  direct-s  itself  in 
prayer,  to  God.  An  ejaculatory  prayer  is  not 
enough.  It  proceeds  only  occasionally  from 
the  soul.  While  the  requirement  is,  that  at  all 
times  our  expectation  in  everything  be  from 
God,  and  that  our  thanks  are  continually  his 
due;  to  let  God  inspire  us  and  so  to  deal  with 
our  faithful  Father  that  it  would  at  no  time 
affect  us  strangely  if  He  were  to  appear  to  us. 
Even  as  we  have  our  self  ever  with  us,  and  bring 

310 


it  into  every  interest  of  life,  so  we  should  allow 
the  thought  of  God,  the  lifting  up  of  the  soul  to 
God,  the  faith  on,  and  the  love  for,  God  uncea- 
singly to  operate  in  and  with  everything.  .  .  This 
prevents  estrangement,  and  straying  away,  and 
accustoms  the  soul  to  be  continually  "near  unto 
God."  This  is  shown  most  forcibly  by  the  fact 
that  he  who  so  lives  is  at  once  aware  of  an 
aching  void  within,  the  moment  he  wanders  away 
from  God,  which  allows  him  no  rest  till  fellow- 
ship with  God  is  restored. 

58 
"I  HIDE  ME  WITH  THEE." 

The  hen  allows  her  chickens  to  run  about  freely 
within  her  sight  until  danger  threatens,  and  then 
at  once  with  raised  wings,  she  clucks  her  brood 
towards  herself,  and  does  not  rest  until  the  last 
little  one  has  crowded  itself  beneath  her  wings, 
and  animal-mother  faithfulness  covers  all  the 
young  innocents.  But  then  the  chickens  do  not 
hide  themselves  yet  with  the  mother  hen.  They 
only  do  this  when,  seeing  the  approach  of  danger, 
of  themselves,  and  of  their  own  initiative,  they 
flee  to  the  mother  hen  in  order  to  seek  protection 
beneath  her  wings.  ,     ,     t  j 

The  "Jerusalem,  Jerusalem,"  which  Jesus  de- 
claimed against  Zion  was  doubly  upbraiding  in 
its  touching  pathos,  because  it  reproached  Israel 
either  for  not  surmising  danger,  or  in  case  it  did, 
for  seeking  defense  and  cover  with  men  and  not 
with  God.  In  time  of  danger  the  people  should 
have  called  upon  God,  and  should  have  poured 
cut  their  supplication  for  help  and  deliverance 
unto  the  God   of  their  fathers,  and  as  soon   as 

311 


the  waters  in  the  flood  of  destruction  that  came 
upon  the  people  began  to  rise,  without  waiting 
for  an  answer  to  their  cry,  they  should  have 
sought  refuge  with  God.  The  people  did  not  do 
this.  They  trusted  in  their  own  strength  and 
underestimated  the  danger.  And  then  instead 
of  the  people  calling  upon  God,  God  called  upon 
the  people,  saying  "O  Israel,  flee  unto  Me,  and 
let  Me  be  your  shield."  In  this  way  God  called, 
not  once  but  "many  times."  And  Israel  heard 
that  calling  and  clucking  of  its  God,  but  hardened 
the  heart,  and  would  not.  And  then  the  abandon- 
ment became  a  judgment:  "How  often  would 
I  have  gathered  thee,  as  a  hen  doth  gather  her 
brood  under  her  wings,  and  ye  would  not ;  behold, 
your  house  is  left  unto  you  desolate."  And  at 
this  judgment  Israel  did  not  weep  with  shame, 
and  self-reproach,  but  planted  the  cross  of 
Golgotha;  and  he  who  wept  over  his  people, 
was  the  Lord. 

We  are  here  confronted  with  all  sorts  of  spirit- 
ual conditions.  One  will  be  in  danger,  but  as  it 
threatens  he  neither  knows  God,  nor  is  known 
of  him.  Yet  in  the  face  of  shipwreck  he  will  cry : 
"O  God,  help  me,"  though  his  voice  is  lost  in  the 
storm.  While  another  in  the  face  of  danger 
will  brave  it  without  a  thought  of  God.  Still 
another  in  time  of  stress  will  hear  the  warning 
call  of  God,  but  will  not  heed  it.  But  there 
will  also  be  those  who,  in  the  hour  of  grave  need, 
of  themselves  will  flee  to  God,  will  call  upon  him 
and  hear  his  call,  and  who,  before  the  soul  is 
delivered,  find  themselves  safely  hidden  with 
their  God,  shadowed  by  his  wings  and  covered  by 
his  faithfulness.    And  these  are  they  from  whose 

312 


soul  in  truth  the  call  of  confidence  goes  forth: 
"I  hide  me  Loid.  with  thee."  (Ps.  143:9  marg. 
reading). 

Hiding  with  God  is  not  dwelling  in  his  tent, 
or  knowing  the  secret  grace  of  the  hidden  walk. 
Hiding  never  indicates  a  fixed  condition,  but 
always  something  transient.  We  seek  shelter 
from  a  thunderstorm,  in  order  presently,  when 
the  sun  shines  again,  to  step  out  from  our  hiding- 
place,  and  continue  on  our  way.  Little  chickens 
hide  with  the  mother  hen,  when  a  water-rat  is 
around;  but  when  it  is  gone,  they  run  out  again. 
And  the  soul  of  him  who  knows  God,  hides  with 
his  Father,  as  long  as  trouble  lasts ;  but  when  it  is 
overpassed,  there  is  no  more  need  of  hiding. 
Hiding  in  God  is  not  the  ordinary,  but  the  ex- 
traordinary condition  of  a  single  moment  "Until 
these  calamities  be  overpast"  (Ps.  57:1),  or  as 
said  in  Is.  26:20,  "Until  the  indignation  be  over- 
past" 

But  even  he  who  fears  God,  does  not  hide  with 
him  in  everytime  of  need.  Trouble  and  care  are 
upon  us  all  the  days  of  our  life.  The  cross  must 
be  taken  up  each  day  anew.  But  as  a  rule  the 
child  of  God  calmly  pursues  his  way  in  the  assured 
confidence  of  Divine  protection.  He  knows  that 
God  fights  for  him,  that  God  is  his  shadow,  that 
as  his  good  shepherd  he  leads  him,  and  that 
when  too  violent  an  assult  threatens,  God  covers 
him  with  his  shield.  He  then  dwells  with  God, 
and  God  does  not  leave  him  to  himself.  All 
this  is  the  daily,  ordinary  activity  of  faith,  the 
operation  of  God's  faithfulness,  and  of  the  trust 
of  his  child. 

But  hiding  it  still  something  else.  It  is  something 

313 


connected  with  the  hour  of  teiTor;when  the  water 
has  risen  to  the  hps,  when  dark  dread  has 
suddenly  overtaken  the  soul,  when  there  is 
no  way  of  escape,  when  dark  night  settles  on 
the  heart,  when  faith  no  longer  trusts  itself. 
Then  there  is  an  heroic  taking  hold  of  self,  and 
as  in  the  moment  of  danger  the  child  runs  to 
mother,  and  hides  himself  in  her  dress,  so  does 
the  soul  fly  to  God,  crowds  close  up  to  him  and 
hides  with  him.  And  in  doing  this  the  soul  has 
no  thought  of  anything,  nor  time  for  making 
plans,  save  only  and  alone  to  hide  with  God,  to 
be  safe  with  him,  to  find  deliverance  with  him. 
If  despair  of  faith  were  possible,  hiding  might 
be  said  to  be  the  act  of  despair.  But  though  there 
never  is  despair  in  faith,  in  great  anxiety  of  mind 
the  child  of  God  may  despair  of  himself,  of 
help  and  deliverance  from  without,  of  the  working 
of  the  ordinary  powers  and  gifts  which  at  other 
times  are  at  command,  and  now  gives  up  every 
further  attempt  to  resist  because  he  feels  that 
the  fight  is  too  unequal,  that  the  opposing  force 
is  too  strong  and  overwhelming,  that  he  can 
not  stand  before  it,  and  dares  not  run  any  more 
futile  risks,  and  therefore  throws  pike  and  shield 
aside,  and  helplessly  takes  refuge  with  God  with 
the  cry:  "O  God,  fight  thou  for  me,"  and  now 
hides  with  God.  After  the  chickens  have  crept 
under  the  wings  of  the  mother  hen,  the  hawk 
that  was  after  the  chickens  no  longer  sees  them, 
but  only  the  angry  mother  hen.  When  the  child 
takes  refuge  with  mother,  and  hides  itself  in 
her  dress,  the  assailant  has  no  longer  to  do  with 
an  helpless  child,  but  with  the  mother  who,  like 
a  lioness,  fights  for  it.  And  when  a  child  of  God 
814 


hides  with  God  the  battle  is  no  longer  one  between 
him  and  the  world,  but  between  the  world  and 
God.  He  who  hides  with  God  commits  his  cause 
to  God.  He  withdraws  himself  from  it.  All  his 
support  and  hope  is  the  righteousness  of  his 
Lord.  And  only  when  this  has  openly  been 
shown,  he  comes  out  from  his  hiding  again  in 
order  to  finish  his  course. 

Hiding  with  God  therefore  is  no  ordinary  act 
of  the  soul.  It  onl}-  takes  place  amid  circumstances 
of  utmost  need  and  danger.  Only  when  David's 
spirit  was  overhelmed  within  him,  and  he  was 
forced  to  exclaim:  ''My  heart  within  me  is 
desolate"  (143:4),  so  that  he  lay  "in  darkness 
as  those  that  have  long  been  dead,"  was  the 
cry  for  help  forced  from  his  heart,  whereby 
he  struck  the  key-note  and  found  the  word, 
which  only  in  momenj:s  of  like  stress  the  soldiers 
of  the  cross  have  echoed  and  re-echoed  from 
their    own    over-burdened    spirit. 

There  is  also  a  hiding  with  God  in  moments 
of  anxiety  and  need,  which  are  occasioned  by 
ordinary'  events  in  life.  For  though  as  a  rule  be- 
lievers are  not  called  upon,  like  David,  to  fight 
the  battle  of  the  Lord,  something  of  that  battle 
annouces  itself  in  every  famih^  life,  and  in  every 
individual  career.  The  instances  in  worldly  lives 
of  great  perturbation  of  mind,  which  lead  to 
despair  and  suicide,  are  almost  without  number. 
And  it  is  noteworth}'-  that  what  brings  the  wordly- 
minded  through  despair  to  suicide,  drives  the 
believer  to  hide  himself  with  God.  The  man  of 
the  world  and  the  child  of  God  both  give  up. 
But  while  the  worldly  man  seeks  surcease  in 
self-destruction,  just  to  get  away  from  his  troub- 

315 


les,  the  hope  of  eternal  life  dawns  on  the  soul 
of  the  believer,  and  he  also  seeks  to  do  away- 
with  self,  but  bj^  expecting  nothing  more  from 
his  own  strength  and  powers,  and  by  resigning 
everything  into  the  hand  of  God.  Even  as  he 
who  is  incurably  ill,  suffers  dreadfully,  is  no 
more  able  to  endure  it,  and  expects  no  more 
help  from  medicine,  yet  holds  out  unto  death, 
because  he  can  hide  with  God.  So  there  can 
be  despair  in  the  family  on  account  of  consuming 
grief,  bitter,  sin,  endless  adversities,  and  lack  of 
bread.  There  can  also  be  a  grievance  though 
scorn  and  slander,  so  deep  and  cruel,  that  restora- 
tion of  honor  is  no  more  possible,  and  life  be- 
comes a  burden.  The  cause  of  God  may  be 
involved  in  all  this,  but  as  a  rule  it  is  not,  and 
all  this  dreadful  darkness  looms  up  from  com- 
mon life.  But  though  the.  battle  for  God  may 
have  nothing  to  do  with  this,  it  is  bound  to 
have  a  part  in  this,  because  these  grievous  troubles 
make  their  wave-beats  shake  the  faith  in  the 
heart  of  God's  child.  And  then  it  can  not  help 
but  become  a  battle  of  faith.  A  combat  between 
the  power  of  the  world  and  that  which  reveals 
the  faith.  Fear  would  strike  faith  dumb,  but 
faith  will  cry  out  for  help  against  it. 

And  in  all  such  cases  faith  first  struggles 
against  it,  then  tries  to  conjure  the  storm,  then 
battles  as  long  as  it  can.  But  when  finally  it 
is  utterly  disabled,  and  feels  itself  at  the  point 
of  defeat,  it  performs  the  last  heroic  act  which 
makes  it  triumph:  it  lets  go,  it  gives  up,  in 
order  to  commit  its  all  unto  the  Lord,  and  then 
the  tempest-tossed  and  uncomforted  soul  hides 
with  God,  and  God  binds  up  his  sorrow. 

316 


69 
"THOU  DOST  NOT  HEAR  ME." 

True  prayer  calls  for  an  answer  from  God. 
But  not  all  prayer  is  genuine.  There  is  a  great 
difference  between  formal  prayer  of  the  lips  and 
earnest  outpouring  of  soul  in  supplication.  Form- 
al prayer  however  should  not  be  underestimated. 
It  implies  a  power  that  maintains  prayer.  And 
though  it  tarries,  a  spark  from  above  may  sud- 
denly come  down  into  this  dead  formalism  and 
ignite  the  flame  of  true  prayer  in  it.  But  though 
it  is  unfair  to  say  that  he  who  prays  in  this  mere, 
formal  way,  had  better  not  pray  at  all,  it  re- 
mains true  that  cold  and  heartless  prayer  is  in- 
fected prayer,  in  behalf  of  which  the  man  of 
ardent  prayer  invokes  the  cleansing  power  of  the 
atonement. 

If  we  would  examine  the  true  character  of 
prayer,  we  must  distinguish  it  from  the  form,  and 
direct  the  attention  to  real  supplication  of  the 
soul;  and  then  he  who  prays,  awaits  an  answer; 
such  as  in  olden  times  was  given  in  a  revelation,  in 
a  word  spoken  in  the  soul,  in  a  vision,  or  appear- 
ance of  an  angel;  and  in  our  times  in  the  hearing 
of  our  prayer,  in  an  unexpected  meeting,  or  in 
a  motion  worked  by  the  Holy  Ghost  within. 
He  who  prays  in  a  godly  manner  always  awaits 
an  answer;  not  only  when  he  asks  for  something, 
but  also  when  he  worships,  ascribes  praise,  or 
gives  thanks.  In  these  holy  exercises  he  does  not 
merely  aim  at  reciting  words  in  honor  of  God's 
name  and  majesty  but  he  asks  God,  whom  he 
worships,  to  accept  his  praises  and  thanksgivings. 
The   scripture   speaks   of  them   as   offerings,  and 

317 


calls  them:  "the  calves  of  the  lips"  (Hosea  14:2), 
or  "the  fruit  of  the  lips"  (Is.57:19)  by  which 
to  indicate  clearly  the  significance  of  an  offering 
■which  such  prayer  implies.  From  the  account 
of  the  first  fratricide  we  learn  that  there  is  an 
offering  which  God  accepts  and  one  which  he 
rejects.  And  nowhere  has  it  been  more  clearly 
shown  than  in  Cain's  anger  and  wrath,  that  with 
ever}'  offering  the  human  heart  awaits  an  answer 
from  God. 

But  it  does  not  always  come.  And  amid  the 
sorrows  of  heart  and  the  distresses  of  soul  nothing 
is  more  grievous  than  this  lack  of  an  answer 
from  the  Lord.  Hear  the  complaint  of  Job 
(30:20):  "I  cry  unto  thee,  and  thou  dost  not 
hear  me;  I  stand  up,  and  thou  regardest  me  not." 
This  is  expressed  still  more  strongly  in  Ps.  22, 
where  the  Messiah  exclaims:  "My  God,  my  God, 
why  hast  thou  forsaken  me!  0  my  God,  I  cry  in 
the  daytime,  but  thou  hearest  not;  and  in  the 
night  season  also  I  take  no  rest."  Or  as 
it  reads  in  Micah  3:7  "Then  shall  the  seers  be 
ashamed     .     .     .    for  there  is  no  answer  of  God". 

The  failure  of  obtaining  an  answer  from  God 
is  by  no  means  always  the  fault  of  the  worshipper. 
With  the  Messiah  at  least  this  is  unthinkable. 
Every  one  knows  from  experience  that  at  one 
time  he  was  heard  in  spite  of  an  accusing  con- 
science, and  that  at  another  time,  when  his  prayer 
had  been  earnest  and  sincere,  no  answer  came. 
In  many  instances,  the  hearing  failed,  because 
prayer  was  a  sin  in  our  lips.  Withholding  of 
an  answer,  on  the  part  of  God,  can  frequently 
be  explained  from  the  sinful  mood  of  the  heart 
during  prayer.    But  sin  on  the  part  of  a  worshipper 

318 


is  not  the  only  cause  of  the  failure  to  obtain  an 
hearing  of  prayer.  The  most  devout  saints  in 
Israel  complained  again  and  again  that  their  prayer 
was  not  heard,  which  was  a  source  of  deep  grief 
to  their  hearts;  and  their  grief  was  proof  that 
their  prayers  had  been  earnest  and  sincere.  The 
Lama  Sabachthani  from  the  cross  shows  the  height 
which  this  sorrow  of  the  human  heart  can  climb, 
and  Golgotha  makes  it  plain,  more  strongly  than 
anything  else,  that  the  withholding  of  an  answer, 
on  the  part  of  God,  can  be  intentional. 

The  question  in  dispute  on  Carmel  was  an 
answer  from  above.  Both  Elijah  and  the  priests 
of  Baal  acknowledged  that  if  God  is  alive,  and 
man  prays  to  Him,  a  sign  of  life  must  proceed 
from  the  side  of  God,  as  an  answer  to  prayer. 
The  priests  sought  this  answer  with  Baal,  and 
Elijah  sought  it  with  Jehovah.  From  morning 
even  until  noon  the  cry  arose  from  a  thousand 
mouths;  "O  Baal,  answer  us,"  and  they  cut 
themselves  with  knives  and  lancets,  because  no 
answer  came.  Then  Elijah  also  prayed  and  God 
answered  by  fire.  The  question  at  stake  was, 
whether  the  God  who  was  invoked  was  able  to 
answer.  A  God  who  is  not,  and  who  is  not  alive, 
can  not  answer.  Jehovah,  who  is  alive  in  glory 
could  answer,  and  the  fearful  answer  descended 
in  fire  from  heaven. 

But  ability  to  answer  is  not  enough.  God  must 
fJso  be  willing  to  answer;  and  the  Sabachthani 
is  the  most  striking  instance  of  the  awful  truth, 
that  at  times  God  is  intentionally  unwilling,  and 
that  he  does  not  withhold  his  answer  by  chance 
or  by  mistake,  but  in  accordance  with  his  counsel 
and    plan.      Even    when    his    child    continues    to 

S19 


call  he  refuses  to  hear;  even  when  the  saintliest 
worshipper  pours  out  his  soul  before  him; 
even  when  his  own  well-beloved  Son  cries 
unto  Him  from  the  cross.  This  is  the  comfort 
of  the  cry  from  the  cross  for  every  soul  that  cries 
and  gets  no  answer.  Otherwise  the  silence  of 
Grod  might  bring  the  soul  to  despair.  But  when 
it  appears  that  even  the  prayer  of  God's  own 
Son  remained  unanswered,  why  should  a  sinful 
suppliant  complain  or  despair,  when  he,  too,  is 
numbered  with  the  Son  of  God. 

Is  this  non-compliance  on  the  part  of  God 
mere  arbitrariness?  Far  from  it.  Such  an  idea 
is  unthinkable  in  God.  Even  this  Divine  with- 
holding of  an  answer  to  our  prayer  is  outflow  of 
the  love-life  wherewith  God  compasses  the  soul 
of  his  child.  In  our  prayer-life  there  is  danger 
that  we  seek  a  gift  from  God  rather  than  God  him- 
self. Prayer  is  almost  always  invocation  of  God's 
help,  of  his  assistance;  of  his  saving  and  blessing 
grace;  but  apart  from  ourselves,  our  own  interests 
and  conditions  of  need,  prayer  seldom  aims  first 
of  all  to  have  dealings  with  God  himself.  The 
''Our  Father"  teaches  the  way.  It  instructs  us  first 
to  pray  for  the  hallowing  of  God's  name,  for  the 
coming  of  his  Kingdom,  for  the  doing  of  his  Will, 
and  then  it  goes  on  to  the  prayer  for  our  daily 
bread,  for  forgiveness  of  our  sins  and  for  our 
deliverance  from  the  Evil.  But  this  is  the  misery 
of  our  spiritual  estate,  that  even  in  prayer  we 
rarely  stand  on  the  sacred  height  of  the  "Our 
Father". 

This  wounds  the  tender  love-life  between  God 
and  the  soul.  Prayer  for  provision  in  personal 
need  is  natural,  but  it  always  springs  from  love 

320 


of  self.  God  must  lend  help  and  assistance  and 
deliverance.  And  so  it  comes  to  appear  at  times 
that  God  is  and  exists  merely  for  our  sakes,  for 
our  benefit,  to  deliver  us  from  trouble.  But  love 
is  different.  Love  for  God  in  prayer  is,  that 
first  of  all  we  are  concerned  with  the  things  that 
glorify  God's  name,  God's  honor  and  G;od's  power. 
If  it  be  true  that  love  alone  maketh  rich  and  ex- 
alteth  the  soul,  it  is  grace,  and  nothing  but  seeking 
grace,  when  by  temporary  withholdings  of  answers 
to  our  prayers  God  initiates  us  more  fully  into 
the  life  of  love,  represses  egoism  in  our  prayers, 
and  in  our  prayer-life  also  quickens  love. 

Hence  when  an  answer  to  prayer  tarries,  let 
not  the  soul  grow  faint.  Apart  from  the  fact  that 
an  answer  is  not  immediately  necessary,  and  that 
it  is  frequently  shown  later  on  that  in  his  own  time 
God  granted  the  request,  there  is  no  reason  why, 
when  God  withholds  an  answer,  we  need  to  des- 
pair. When  saints  in  Old-  and  New-Testament 
times  were  tried  along  this  line,  and  our  blessed 
Savior  endured  it  in  the  dark  hour  of  death  upon 
the  cross,  why  then  should  we  be  spared?  The 
very  restraint  on  the  part  of  God,  when  the  soul 
cries  out  to  him,  may  be  the  token,  that  he  loves 
the  soul  more  than  we  ourselves;  that  he  wants 
to  raise  the  life  of  the  soul  and  the  life  of  prayer 
to  higher  vantage  grounds;  that  he  desires  to 
initiate  us  into  the  deeper  ways  of  love;  and 
that  by  not  answering  our  prayer  he  prepares 
us  for  a  more  glorious  future,  when  we  shall  pray 
more  sincerely,  supplicate  more  earnestly,  and 
receive  a  far  more  abundant  answer.  Even 
among  us  it  is  frequently  seen  that  a  temporal 
withdrawal    from    those    whom    we    love    is    the 

321 


means  to  quicken  tenderer  love.  How  much  the 
more  is  this  true  of  him,  who  himself  is  love 
and  who  by  putting  a  cloud  between  us  and  his 
Majesty,  leads  us  up  to  the  higher  and  far 
richer   enjoyments  of  love. 

60 

"HIS  WAYS  ARE  EVERLASTING" 

With  the  passing  of  anipther  year  another 
boundary-line  in  life  is  drawn.  A  new  year  is 
brought  into  the  course  of  time.  It  was  1903, 
and  so  it  continued  for  months  and  weeks  and 
days.  It  became  1904,  and  involuntarily  we  ask 
what  it  shall  bring  us.  Whether  the  year  will 
outlive  us  or  whether  we  shall  outlive  it.  This 
of  itself  on  the  threshold  of  the  new  year 
makes  us  to  look  up  to  our  Father  who  is  in 
heaven,  and  ask  little  but  trust  much,  to  lay  the 
hand  on  the  mouth  and  as  a  weaned  child  quielty 
to  wait  what  He  will  bring  upon  us,  and  upon 
our   beloveds. 

The  goings  of  the  age  are  his,  declares  the 
prophet  (Hab.  3:6  Dutch  Version.)  God  counts 
and  reckons  with  centuries,  as  on  the  dial  of 
the  clock  it  is  done  with  hours  and  minutes. 
We  are  the  little,  needy  ones  who  count  with 
the  tenth  part  of  a  penny.  God  bathes  him- 
self as  it  were  in  the  great  eternities.  There  is 
no  comparison  between  our  and  God's  reckoning 
of  time.  With  God  it  is  the  ever-flowing  fountain 
of  the  eternal;  with  us  the  dripping  of  the  mom- 
ents is  heard  in  the  ticking  of  the  clock.  While 
waiting  for  it,  five  single  minutes  seem  some- 
times  unbearably   long. 

This  vast  difference  between  us  and  God  should 

322 


never  be  lost  from  sight.  It  is  so  wide  that 
we  can  not  possibly  explain  the  connection  be- 
tween our  time  and  God's  eternity,  though  we 
know  that  there  must  be  such  a  relation,  and 
that  there  is.  When  we  die  in  Christ  we 
shall  enter  upon  an  eternity  of  everlasting  joys, 
but  even  this  shall  never  be  to  us  the  eternity 
of  God.  Though  we  shall  live  eternally,  we 
have  had  a  beginning,  but  God  never.  "Before 
the  mountains  were  brought  forth, (Ps.  90)  from 
everlasting  to  everlasting  thou  art  God."  And 
this  never  applies  to  man.  But,  however  incal- 
culably vast  the  difference  may  be,  between  us 
who  live  by  hours,  and  God  who  disposes  of  the 
goings  of  the  ages,  it  is  grace,  that  God  divides 
for  us  the  portion  of  life,  which  we  spend  between 
the  cradle  and  the  grave,  into  parts  of  years  and 
days,  and  that  he  subdivides  these  parts  into 
hours  and  minutes  whereby  our  otherwise  short 
life  obtains  breadth,  extension  of  duration  and 
richness  of  scope,  which  makes  us  bathe  ourselves 
in  the  little  pond  of  our  brief  years  as  in  an  ocean. 
We  did  not  invent  time,  and  its  division  into 
j''ears  and  days;  these  are  ours  by  God's  appoint- 
ment. "And  the  evening  and  the  morning  were 
the  first  da3'',"  is  the  creative  word  that  appointed 
this  order  and  division  of  time  for  us,  before 
man  had  appeared  on  earth.  Sun  and  moon,  the 
rotation  of  the  earth,  and  the  pulsebeat  of  the 
blood  in  our  veins,  have  been  made  with  the 
view  of  solving  human  life  into  minutes  and 
seconds.  And  by  this  wondrous  means,  wonder- 
ful in  simplicity  of  appointment.  Divine  grace 
and  mercy  have  created  for  us,  and  about  us,  a 
wealth   of  life  in  the   past,  now  in  the  present, 

323 


and  presently  in  the  future,  whereby  our  short 
life  appears  to  be  almost  endlessly  long  and  great. 
Even  the  single  year  that  is  past  seemed  so  long, 
that  only  a  few  of  its  significant  days  are  clearly 
remembered,  and  the  new  j^ear  just  begun  makes 
an  impression  as  though  it  could  never  end. 

Our  God  moreover,  whose  are  the  goings  of 
the  age.  has  not  only  beautifully  divided  human 
life,  and  thereby  mightily  enlarged  it  to  our 
idea,  but  he  also  pervades  it  continually  with 
his  faithfulness  and  Fatherly  care.  From  week  to 
week,  and  from  day  to  day  his  mercy  and  love  are 
over  us,  new  every  morning  and  scintillating  with 
new  brightness  every  evening.  From  hour  to  hour 
he  goeth  before  us  on  the  way.  In  the  subdivisions 
of  the  hours  into  minutes  and  seconds  the  puke- 
beat  of  the  blood  in  the  heart  is  his  work,  and 
he  notices  every  desire  of  the  heart,  that  goeth 
out  after  him.  He  is  the  Father  of  the  everlasting 
ages,  who  from  sheer  grace  divides,  for  the  sake 
of  enrichment,  the  life  of  his  child  even  into  small- 
est parts,  and  pervades  each  division  and  subdivi- 
sion with  his  grace  to  keep  us  and  to  protect  us. 

If  God  has  so  divided  our  life  and  entered  it 
with  his  grace,  we  should  reach  out  from  this  time- 
divided  life  after  the  goings  of  the  age,  and 
elevate  ourselves  to  the  levels  of  the  eternal.  In 
Revelation  10:6  we  read  that  the  angel  who  stood 
upon  the  sea  and  upon  the  earth  lifted  up  his 
hand  to  heaven,  and  sware  by  Him  that  liveth 
for  ever  and  ever  ....  that  there  should  be  time 
no  longer.  Time  is  a  form  of  existence  given  us 
by  grace,  but  it  is  unreal;  eternity  alone  is  real, 
Our  destiny  lies  in  eternity  and  only  from  the 
viewpoint   of  eternity  can  human  existence,  life 

S24 


and  destiny  be  understood.  Whatever  the  year 
of  life  may  be,  it  is  never  understood  from  itself. 
Before  God,  all  of  human  life,  with  all  its  years, 
forms  one  plan,  one  end,  one  whole.  This  plan, 
of  our  life  did  not  begin  at  birth  but  traces  its 
lines  back  to  the  life  of  parents  and  grandparents. 
In  the  forward  direction  this  plan  does  not  end 
with  death,  but  extends  across  death  and  grave 
into  the  ages  of  eternity.  It  may  even  be  said  that 
although  we  might  live  70  or  80  years,  this  part 
of  life,  lived  on  the  earth  shrinks  into  almost  noth- 
ing by  the  side  of  the  tens  of  thousands  of  years 
that  await  us  in  eternity.  All  of  earthly  life  is 
nothing  but  riding  down  the  line  to  the  first 
station,  where  the  real  journey  through  the  table- 
lands of  eternity  begins. 

Not  to  see  this  plainly  and  clearly,  is  the 
main  cause  of  discouragement  which  frequently 
overtakes  people  in  their  passage  through  this 
brief,  earthly  life.  For  a  year  of  life  can  never 
be  understood  by  itself,  and  must  be  viewed  in 
connection  with  life  in  the  hereafter,  because  it 
is  so  and  not  otherwise  before  God,  and  can  not 
be  explained  in  any  other  way.  He  who  moulds 
and  forms  and  prepares  us  for  eternity  is  the 
Lord.  In  his  works  upon  the  heart,  in  his  forming 
of  the  person,  as  well  as  in  his  preparing  of  the 
spirit  \\'ithin  us  for  eternity,  the  goings  of  the 
age  are  also  his.  The  standard  here  is  not 
what  would  give  us  pleasure  and  love  for  a  mo- 
ment; but  what  governs  his  appointments  of  our 
life  is  what  we  are  to  become  in  the  course  of 
centuries.  On  this  long  way  he  leads  us  now 
through  dark  and  deep  places,  and  again  through 
sunshine   on  the   mountains   of  his  holiness,  but 

325 


his  plan  and  appointment  always  accompanies  us. 
And  not  what  would  smile  on  us  this  year,  but 
what  77iust  happen  with  us,  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  his  plan  regarding  us,  determines  what 
the  3'ear  will  bring.  And  why  it  must  be  so  and 
not  otherwise  we  can  not  understand  now,  but 
we  will  in  the  hereafter.  He  who  forgets  this 
has  no  peace.  He  who  with  all  his  soul  enters 
into  the  eternal  activitj^  of  God,  rests,  whatever 
comes,  in  the  Father's  faithfulness. 

If  within  the  narrow  confines  of  time  we  reckon 
by  the  day  and  the  week,  and  the  heart  turns 
bitter  everj^  time  things  go  wrong  and  bring 
nothing  but  disappointment,  we  become  the  prey 
of  uneasiness  and  gloom.  Then  complaint  becomes 
unceasing,  and  the  habit  of  seeing  all  things  black 
overwhelms  us.  Then  there  is  no  heroism  of 
faith,  no  inspiration  to  face  destiny  and  no 
joy  in  God.  Thousands  and  thousands  spend  all 
their  daj's  in  cold  indifference  or  in  hopeless  en- 
deavor. They  are  but  a  play-ball  before  the 
wind  of  the  day  and  sink  far  below  the  dignity  of 
man.  Does  not  the  prophet  say,  Eccles.  3:11  that 
God  hath  set  eternity  in  the  heart?  This  but 
means  that  God  has  given  us  power  from  amid 
the  whirling  time-flakes  all  around  us  to  lift 
ourselves   up   to   the   sure   levels   of   the   eternal. 

With  eternity  set  in  the  heart  let  every  child 
of  God  bravely  face  the  newly- opening  year. 
He  knows  that  the  God  whom  he  worships  owns 
the  goings  of  the  age,  and  therefore  disposes  and 
appoints  human  life  purel}^  in  accordance  with 
the  claims  of  eternity.  He  prays  that  he  may 
have  peace  and  jo3%  for  the  heart  craves  happiness. 
But    if    the   year    must   bring   him    periods   when 

826 


God  puts  him  into  the  smelting-furnace,  or  adds 
finer  cuttings  to  the  diamond  of  the  soul,  though 
his  eyes  may  ghsten  with  tears,  he  will  nobly  bear 
up  in  the  strength  of  faith;  for  he  knows  it  is 
necessary  for  his  good;  that  it  can  not  be  other- 
wise; and  that  if  it  were  otherwise,  his  life  would 
forever  be  a  failure.  It  is  hard  to  undergo  a  painful 
operation,  but  the  patient  willingly  submits,  and 
pays  large  sums  of  money  to  the  operator,  because 
he  knows  this  drastic  treatment  alone  could  save 
him.  This  states  the  case  of  God's  child  before 
his  Father  who  is  in  heaven.  Not  he,  but  God 
alone  must  know,  what  is  indispensable  and  necess- 
ary for  him  this  year,  and  what  in  view  of  his 
permanent  formation  it  must  bring  him.  And 
in  case  it  appears  that  this  year  such  a  Divine 
operation  is  necessary  for  him,  he  will  not  murmur, 
neither  will  he  complain,  but  he  will  submit  him- 
self willingly  to  God,  yea,  though  the  waves  of 
sorrow  should  rise  ever  so  high,  he  will  rejoice  in 
God,  knowing  that  everything  God  doeth,  must 
needs  be  done,  for  the  sake  of  God's  honor  and 
his  own  highest  good. 

61 

"PRAISE  HIM  WITH  STRINGED  INSTRU- 
MENTS AND  ORGANS." 

The  Scripture  is  most  urgent  in  pressing 
and  driving  the  soul  to  God.  It  enjoins  the 
supreme  command  of  sobriety  and  purity.  It 
urges  us  not  to  walk  proudly  but  humbly.  It 
is  no  less  inexorable  in  its  warnings  that  we 
guard  ourselves  in  ever}'  way  against  the  killing 
power  of  money,  and  that  we  sanctify  our  wealth 

327 


by  large  charities.  But  nothing  of  all  this  can 
compare  with  the  unsparing  compulsion  with 
which  the  H0I3'  Ghost  in  God's  word  relentlessly 
drives  us  to  worship,  to  seek  Divine  fellowship, 
to  have  the  soul  appear  before  God. 

The  Scripture  places  itself  at  a  standpoint  that 
is  even  more  exalted  than  this.  According  to 
its  claim  it  is  not  enough  that  believers  make 
great  the  name  of  Him,  whose  property  is  majesty 
and  power  in  the  most  absolute  sense.  All  men 
must  glorify  God.  Even  this  does  not  draw 
the  circle  by  far  of  what  must  praise  the  name 
of  the  Lord.  Together  with  man  the  Scripture 
includes  in  this  circle  all  heavenly  hosts.  "Praise 
the  Lord,  all  ye  his  hosts,  ye  ministers  of  his, 
that  do  his  pleasure"  (Ps.  103:21).  All  Cherubs, 
archangels  and  Seraphim.  And  from  the  heavens 
the  circle  descends  to  include  within  its  bounds 
inanimate  creation.  Not  only  must  everything 
that  hath  breath  praise  the  Lord.  "All  his  works 
in  all  places  of  his  dominion"  must  magnify  his 
praise.  "Praise  ye  him,  sun  and  moon;  praise 
him  all  ye  stars  of  light.  Praise  the  Lord,  ye 
snow  and  vapours;  stormy  wind  fulfilling  his 
word."  (Ps.  148).  Mountains  and  hills,  cedar 
trees  on  Lebanon,  beasts  and  all  cattle,  creeping 
things  and  the  hosts  of  birds  that  sing  among  the 
branches,  must  all  make  great  the  name  of  the 
Lord,  must  all  pour  forth  abundant  speech.  There 
must  be  no  people  and  no  tongue  where  their 
voice  of  praise  is  not  heard.  "0  Lord,  our  Lord, 
how  excellent  is  thy  name  in  all  the  earth." 

Thus,  as  man,  we  are  called  to  praise  the  Lord, 
in  the  midst  of  a  creation  from  which  a  voice 
goes  forth,  which  invites  us  to  praise  God,  and 
328 


returns  an  echo  to  our  song  of  praise  that  re- 
sounds among  the  spheres.  It  is  no  dead,  silent 
creation,  stricken  with  dumbness,  but  a  living 
creation,  that  utters  speech.  And  he  whose  ear 
is  attuned  to  understand  this  language  of  nature, 
hears  the  harmonious  flow  of  praise  and  adoration, 
which  it  pours  forth  in  perfect  accord  with  the 
adoring  language  of  his  heart.  And  between 
these  impulses  of  the  heart,  and  undulations  of 
sound  in  the  creation,  the  Scripture  has  laid 
a  tie  in  the  emotional  sphere  of  the  world  of 
sounds,  m  the  wealth  of  music,  in  life's  treasure 
of  sanctified  song.  And  psalm  after  psalm  calls 
on  us  not  only  to  hear  the  voice  of  the  Lord  in 
creation,  and  with  our  voice  to  glorify  our  God, 
but  also  to  praise  him  with  organs  and  stringed 
instruments  (Ps.  150:4), with  lute  and  harp,  with 
high  sounding  cymbals  and  joyful  noise. 

Organs  and  stringed  instruments  therefore  are 
not  secondary,  but  indispensable  factors  in  wor- 
ship, a  means  ordered  of  God  for  fuller  enjoyment 
in  his  praise  and  adoration;  that  through  the 
world  of  music,  too,  the  soul  may  come  closer  to 
God.  Grant  that  ascription  of  praise  in  the  house 
of  prayer,  consisting  of  unaccompanied  voices, 
can  be  solemn  and  impressive,  even  then  this 
human  singing  is  music,  and  improves  in  merit 
and  effect  when  it  is  developed  and  cultivated  by 
art.  Joyful  noises  from  throat  and  harp  both  are 
part  of  the  harmony  which  God  has  put  into  the 
wondrous  world  about  us,  and  which  now  by  the 
throat,  and  now  by  playing  on  organ  or  harp,  is 
raised  and  set  in  harmonious  action  with  the 
world  of  the  heart.  And  whether  we  strike  metal, 
or  cause  strings  to  vibrate,  or  by  our  breath  drive 

329 


sound  from  flute  or  trumpet,  it  is  always  an  im- 
pulse in  the  soul  which  interprets  itself  in  a  vocal 
utterance  of  the  world  of  sound,  which  in  all 
spheres  surrounds  us.  Neither  singer  nor  harpist 
creates  the  world  of  music.  God  created  it.  It 
was  there  before  the  first  man  heard  the  first  joy- 
ful note  of  birds.  It  lies  enfolded  in  the  air  which 
is  susceptible  to  vibration  and  undulation  every- 
where. And  it  is  given  us  by  voice,  by  vibration 
of  throat  or  by  hand,  to  set  this  wondrous  world 
in  motion.  And  when  this  is  done  through  the 
instrument,  by  throat  or  hand,  it  seems  that  the 
undulation,  the  motion,  the  inward  song  of  the 
heart  flows  out  in  it,  catches  an  echo  from  it,  is 
carried  along,  is  relaxed,  and  enriched,  by  it. 
Enriched  in  no  small  part  by  the  fact  that  others 
beside  ourselves  at  the  same  moment  undergo  the 
same  emotions,  experience  like  sensations  in  the 
soul,  so  that  our  praise  and  worship,  through  song 
and  organ-play,  flow  together  with  theirs  into  one 
mighty  stream  of  adoration. 

And  because  these  vibrations  and  undulations 
of  music  react  upon  us  as  a  power  from  without, 
and  lose  themselves  in  the  infinite,  it  seems  that 
this  splendor  of  harmony,  when  song  is  accom- 
panied by  stringed  instruments,  brings  us  into 
fellowship  with  God  himself,  as  praise  and  worship 
from  earth  extends  itself  through  the  heavens,  to 
the  spheres  where  angels  play  the  harps  of  gold, 
and  where  everything  merges  into  one  grand 
symphony    of    worship    around    God's    throne. 

God  has  wonderfully  adapted  the  human  throat 
and  vocal  chords  to  the  world  of  harmonies,  and 
no  joyful  noise  on  earth  excels  that  of  the  human 
voice.    It  is  a  gift,  unequally  divided.  In  southern 

330 


lands  people  are  endowed  with  finer  voices  than  in 
colder  regions.  In  the  same  country  the  dif- 
ference is  wide  between  the  discordant  sounds  of 
the  street  and  the  rythmic,  cultivated  voice  of  the 
artist  singer.  But  with  whatever  difference,  in 
disposition  the  human  voice  is  a  joyful  noise  of 
heavenly  origin;  and  it  shall  only  be  heard  in  all 
its  puritj',  and  wealth  of  expression  in  the  realm 
of  glory  before  the  throne  of  God. 

B}'  itself,  however,  the  human  voice  leaves  a 
gap  for  which  God  supplied  an  equally  wonder- 
ful complement  in  the  instrument.  A  piece  of 
brass,  a  tightly-stretched  hide,  a  horn  from  an 
animal's  head,  even  a  reed  cut  by  the  riverside  are 
seemingly  insignificant,  and  yet  wonderful  means 
in  their  effect  ordained  of  God  to  support  the 
human  voice,  to  unite  them  in  chorus  and  to  bring 
the  human  heart  to  co-operate  and  to  harmonize 
with  the  world  of  sounds  that  surrounds  us. 

But  even  this  is  not  free  from  sin.  The  art  of 
music  is  mainly  employed  for  the  sake  of  man 
and  not  for  God.  It  seeks  no  higher  calling  than 
to  please  the  ear,  to  move  the  heart  with  untrue 
emotions,  and  to  feast  upon  a  wealth  of  enjoy- 
ment that  is  devoid  of  higher  tendencies.  This 
sin  was  less  evident  with  the  Masters  than  with 
a  godless  public,  that  uses  purely  for  its  own 
pleasure  the  master  creations  which,  composed  for 
the  gloiy  of  God,  inspire  holy  motives.  This 
accounts  for  the  distaste  among  devout  believers 
for  secularized  music.  And  this  is  fair.  Even 
music  is  not  innocent.  Vitiated  music  is  a  power 
that  degrades.  It  counts  its  victims  bj'-  heca- 
tombs. But  it  is  not  fair  that  on  account  of  its 
abuse,   vocal   and   instrumental    music   should   be 

331 


eliminated  from  the  services  of  the  sanctuary. 
Far  better  offset  abuse  by  the  sanctified  use  of 
voice  and  stringed  instrument.  The  revival  of 
sacred  music  is  always  a  sign  of  a  higher  activity 
of  life.  Christian  people  who  do  not  sing  and 
play  for  the  glory  of  God  ASTong  themselves. 

62 

'IN  SALEM  IN  HIS  TABERNACLE." 
Salem  is  the  abbreviated  form  for  Jerusalem. 
''In  Salem  in  his  tabernacle"  means  in  its  first, 
literal  sense,  that  the  tabernacle  which  was  made 
in  the  wilderness,  and  had  been  moved  from  place 
to  place,  had  finally  been  brought  to  the  top  of 
Mount  Zion,  so  that  God's  dwelling  place  was 
within  the  walls  of  Jerusalem, 

This  sounds  strangely  to  us.  Involuntarily  we 
ask:  How  can  God  be  omnipresent  and  at  the 
same  time  dwell  in  a  given  city,  on  a  certain 
mountain  top,  in  a  tabernacle  or  temple?  If  in 
the  old  dispensation  God  had  his  tabernacle  in 
Salem,  and  his  dwelling-place  in  Zion,  was  not 
Israel  more  privileged  than  we?  Have  we  then 
retrograded  instead  of  advanced?  Is  the  Gospel, 
which  has  no  knowledge  of  Jerusalem  on  earth, 
poorer  than  the  ritual  of  shadows  that  could 
point  to  the  place  of  God's  presence?  Especially 
when  we  read  in  the  Psalms  of  "praise"  that 
"waiteth  in  Zion,"  and  of  a  "doorkeeper"  in  the 
house  of  the  Lord,  clearness  of  insight  is  greatly 
to  be  desired.  Though  in  early  youth  we  may 
sing  or  recite  these  sentences  thoughtlessly,  with 
the  growth  of  years  we  demand  clearer  under- 
standing. This  does  not  come  by  the  study  of 
history.    It  all  depends  upon  personal,  intentional 

332 


fellowship  with  the  living  God,  which  is  the  heart 
of  all  religion,  upon  the  urgent  desire  of  the  soul 
to  be  ever  more  and  more  in  constant  touch  with 
God.  But  here  we  always  face  an  antithesis 
which  we  can  never  solve,  before  which  all  science 
stands  helpless;  even  the  antithesis  between  the 
infinity  of  God  and  the  finiteness  of  every  creature. 

The  attempt  to  bridge  this  gap  has  been  tried 
in  two  ways.  It  has  been  vainly  tried  by  man, 
and  it  has  been  brought  about  by  God.  In  vain 
it  has  been  tried  by  man  in  the  way  of  the 
heathen,  who  have-  reduced  the  infinity  of  the 
Almighty  to  the  finite  form  of  an  image.  The 
result  was  idolatry  which  killed  the  spirit,  and 
which  ended  in  the  petrifaction  of  all  religion. 
But  it  has  been  brought  about  by  God,  who  has 
swept  away  all  polytheism  and  idolatry  by  orig- 
inally confining  his  service  to  one  place,  b}^  clear- 
ing his  temple  on  Zion  of  every  image  of  him- 
self, and  by  maintaining  the  spiritual  character 
of  his  worship ;  and  who,  when  the  dispensation  of 
shadows  had  fulfilled  its  calling,  gave  us  his  temple 
in  the  incarnated  Word,  and  on  Pentecost  extended 
this  temple  to  his  whole  church,  which  is  the 
Israel  of  the  new  Covenant.  Along  this  wondrous, 
Divine  way  the  end  has  been  reached,  that  now, 
without  weakening  in  the  least,  the  Divine  Infinity 
or  Omnipresence,  the  children  of  God  know  that 
they  have  to  seek  access  to  God  in  Christ;  that 
they  can  enjoy  his  fellowship  in  the  communion 
of  saints;  and  that  they  see  their  hearts  more  and 
more  fashioned  by  the  Holy  Ghost  into  a  dwell- 
ing place  of  God. 

The  clear  representation,  which  this  brings  us, 
is,  that  the  child  of  God,  amid  whatever  dark- 

333 


ness  or  distress,  is  nowhere  burdened  with  the 
oppressive  thought  that  God  is  far  ofif  and  that 
his  presence  can  not  be  found  in  prayer.  Wher- 
ever he  kneels  down  he  knows  that  God  is  there; 
that  he  is  close  at  hand;  that  he  listens  to  the 
prayer;  that  he  sees  and  understands  his  child, 
and  knows  his  way  in  every  particular;  and  that 
no  heart-string  can  vibrate  either  with  sorrow  or 
^vith  joy,  but  God  knows  in  advance  what  sound 
it  would  emit.  "There  is  not  a  word  in  my 
tongue,  but,  lo,  0  Lord,  thou  knowest  it  alto- 
gether. Thou  compassest  my  path  and  my  lying 
down,  and  art  acquainted  with  all  my  ways" 
(Ps.  139:4,3).  While  on  the  other  hand  also 
God's  child  is  constantly  under  the  mighty  im- 
pression of  the  majestj^  and  supremacy  of  the 
Lord.  In  his  descent  to  us  the  glory  and  the  holi- 
ness of  the  Lord  may  never  be  lost  from  sight. 
To  this  end  the  Lord  has  made  it  known,  that 
the  same  God  who  is  ever  close  by  everj^  one  of 
us,  has  his  throne  in  the  heavens,  that  there  alone 
he  unveils  his  glorious  majesty,  and  is  for  no 
moment  lost  in  the  smallness,  insignificance  and 
finiteness  of  our  human  life.  Life  above  and  life 
on  earth  are  distinctly  separated,  and  not  here, 
but  only  when  we  shall  have  passed  through  the 
gate  of  death,  shall  our  eye  see  him  in  the  fulness 
of  his  glory,  in  the  Jerusalem,  that  is  above. 

The  transition  lies  between  these  two.  The 
transition  in  Christ,  the  transition  in  the  com- 
munion of  saints,  the  transition  by  the  indweUing 
of  the  Spirit  in  our  hearts;  and  this  is  the  taber- 
nacle in  Salem,  his  dwelling  place  in  Zion,  his 
presence  with  the  Israel  of  God.  It  goes  on  over 
and  back.  Christ  in  the  flesh  set  in  the  heavens, 
?34 


the  Spirit  descending  into  our  hearts,  and  as  well 
in  Christ  as  in  the  Holy  Ghost  God  Himself  is 
worshipped  by  us. 

This  is  the  mystery.  The  son  of  man,  who  is 
one  of  us,  who  is  our  brother,  who  is  closely  re- 
lated to  us,  and  who  in  our  nature  has  gone  into 
heaven,  does  not  stand  by  the  side  of  God,  but  is 
himself  God.  The  closest  possible  fellowship  be- 
tween God  and  man  is  thereby  realized.  On  the 
other  hand,  while  Christ  is  for  all,  the  Holy  Spirit 
descends  and  makes  his  dwelling  in  the  heart  of 
every  child  of  God  separately.  Thus  he  founds 
a  Salem  in  the  hidden  recesses  of  the  soul,  where 
God  himself  indwells,  where  his  Divine  life  in- 
spires us,  and  where  it  becomes  the  source  of  all 
our  holier  and  higher  emotions,  sensations  and 
impulses.  And  these  two  operate  upon,  and  com- 
plement, one  another.  So  that  there  is  no  fellow- 
ship with  Christ  apart  from  the  Holy  Ghost, 
and  on  the  other  hand  there  is  no  indwelling  of 
the  Holy  Ghost  save  on  the  ground  of  our  fellow- 
ship with  God  in  Christ.  Our  nature  in  Christ 
dwelling  in  the  heavens,  and  the  Holy  Ghost 
indwelling  in  our  heart  on  earth.  Thus  God  him- 
self has  laid  the  bridge  of  holy  living,  with  one 
pier  anchored  in  the  heavens,  and  with  the  other 
resting  in  the  center  of  our  own  human  heart. 

Even  these  two  points  of  support,  however,  are 
in  need  of  union.  This  they  find  in  the  com- 
munion of  saints.  Everyone  knows  for  himself 
how  his  fellowship  with  God  is  strengthened  when 
he  is  in  touch  with  saints  in  the  earth,  and  how  on 
the  other  hand  this  fellowship  suffers  loss,  when 
he  has  no  other  human  contact  than  that  of  peo- 
ple of  the  world.    The  deep  joy  of  the  sacrament 


of  the  Lord's  supper  springs  from  the  focus  of 
this  fellowship.  The  holy  supper  bears  witness  to 
him  of  the  glory  of  Christ,  but  only  in  the  con- 
gregation, not  without  it.  Hence  no  higher  and 
holier  institution  could  have  been  given  to  men, 
than  when  "in  the  night  in  which  he  was  be- 
trayed" Christ  brake  the  bread  and  poured  the 
wine,  and  called  the  Holy  Supper  into  being. 
This  is  the  centrum;  here  all  lines  become  one, 
along  which  fellowship  is  established  between  the 
soul  and  God. 

Nothing  therefore  is  more  heinous,  than  the  sin- 
ful doing  of  those  who  by  quarrelling  and  by 
passionate  contention  for  the  right  of  particular 
views  cause  this  fellowship  of  God's  saints  to 
weaken  and  to  grow  faint.  Our  Savior  gave  us  a 
new  commandment,  even  that  we  love  one 
another.  This  new  love,  which  he  commanded,  is 
the  tenderest  love  that  is  thinkable  on  earth,  since 
it  is  in  the  flood-tide  of  this  new  love,  that  God 
will  draw  near  unto  us,  and  lift  us  up  to  himself. 
And  what  does  he  do,  who,  failing  to  understand 
this  new  love,  abuses  the  church  and  this  holy 
fellowship  of  love  for  the  sake  of  propagating 
his  own  particular  views,  but  break  down  Salem, 
destroy  the  tabernacle  of  the  Lord,  and  as  far  as 
he  is  able  obstruct  fellowship  with  God? 

63 
"THE  NIGHT  IS  FAR  SPENT." 
After  conversion  we  are  in  an  intermediate  state 
until  death.  The  night  is  far  spent,  the  day  is 
at  hand,  but  it  is  not  yet  noon.  That  only  comes 
when  the  glory  of  Christ  shall  break  in  upon  all 
spheres.     Until  that  hour  we  are  ever  approach- 

336 


ing  the  day  in  its  fulness,  though  in  fact  we  walk 
in  twihght.  It  is  light,  but  that  light  is  dim. 
Even  after  conversion  we  continue  therefore  pro- 
visionally in  a  certain  kind  of  sleep,  and  the  con- 
vert can  only  gradually  escape  its  after-effects. 
Such  was  Ihe  case  in  the  days  of  St.  Paul,  when 
the  change  was  far  greater  for  the  convert  than 
now.  Speaking  for  himself  and  for  the  converts 
at  Rome  the  Apostle  emphatically  declares:  "It 
is  now  (i.  e.  so  and  so  many  years  after  their 
conversion) — it  is  now  high  time  to  awake  out  of 
this  sleep  (which  was  still  upon  us)  for  now  is  our 
salvation  nearer  than  when  we  believed."  And 
then  he  adds:  "The  night  is  far  spent,  the  day  is 
at  hand"  (Rom.  13:11,  12). 

This  detracts  nothing  from  the  incontrovertible 
truth,  that  he  who  came  to  conversion  today,  and 
tomorrow  falls  asleep  in  Jesus,  is  sure  of  everlast- 
ing salvation.  But  it  does  say,  that  he  who  after 
conversion  is  given  yet  many  years  of  life  upon 
earth,  passes  from  the  mists  into  ever  clearer 
light,  gets  farther  away  from  the  night,  and  is 
conscious  of  the  ever  closer  approach  of  the  light 
of  day.  In  nature  there  is  no  sudden  disappear- 
ance of  night,  in  order  to  give  place  with  equal 
suddenness  to  the  day  and  the  noontide  sun. 
There  are  transitions  in  nature  from  darkness  into 
dawn  and  from  dawn  into  broad  daylight.  Tran- 
sitions which  are  of  longer  duration  in  some  parts 
of  the  world,  than  in  others,  but  which  occur 
everywhere.  And  so  it  is  in  the  spiritual  life. 
The  new  convert  does  not  become  holy  in  his 
purposes,  tendencies  and  manner  of  life,  all  at 
once.  From  "being  alienated  from  the  life  of 
God"  he  does  not  at  once  come  into  full  fellow- 

337 


ship  with  God.  Where  it  was  night  in  the  soul, 
the  sun  does  not  immediately  after  conversion 
stand  at  the  zenith.  Here  also  are  transitions. 
Beginning  with  a  first  ray  of  light;  a  first  parting 
of  clouds;  a  first  breaking  up  of  mists  until  a  glow 
from  higher  spheres  strikes  the  eye  of  the  soul. 
And  then  it  goes  farther  and  farther.  From  grace 
to  grace.  More  quickly  with  one,  and  with  another 
more  'slowly.  First  a  waking  out  of  the  sleep  of 
error  and  sin.  Then  a  shaking  of  oneself  loose 
from  this  sleep.  Afterward  a  waking  up.  And 
presently  a  going  out  into  the  light.  And  in  this 
transition  we  have  the  incessantly  moving  power 
of  the  Christian  life.  Not  to  continue  standing 
where  we  stand,  but  going  on,  and  going  on  ever 
further.  It  is  first  a  star  that  rises  out  of  Jacob; 
presently  the  sun  of  salvation  is  at  the  horizon; 
and  at  length  the  sun,  which  sheds  clear  light  on 
those  that  wandered  about  in  darkness.  It  is  all 
one  course  of  triumph  and  victory  for  those  to 
whom  the  lack  of  such  light  would  mean  eternal 
night,  but  it  is  a  growing  light,  that  ever  rises 
higher,  and  at  every  moment  becomes  brighter; 
and  Christian  life  would  be  worthless  in  this 
world,  if  the  eye  of  the  soul,  as  it  gradually  be- 
comes accustomed  to  stronger  light  of  grace,  did 
not  obtain  thereby  an  ever  clearer  insight  into 
the  riches  of  God's  mercy. 

This  brings  a  threefold  growth.  Growth  in 
inner  strength;  growth  in  the  more  effective  exhi- 
bition of  the  powers  of  the  kingdom;  and  growth 
in  fellowship  with  God,  which  is  the  heart  of  all 
religion.  There  is  growth  in  inner  strength  through 
the  fuller  strength  imparted  from  the  heavenly 
kingdom.    The  night  is  far  spent,  and  light  shines 

338 


ever  more  clearl}'  in  the  soul.  God  shows  this 
favor  in  the  personal  life.  Increasing  brightness 
in  our  personal  skies.  Less  night  and  more  day 
in  which  ever  more  and  ever  clearer  light  is 
sown  on  our  pathway.  As  an  effect  of  this  inner 
growth,  there  is  greater  exhibition  of  power.  He 
who  must  travel  in  the  earh'  dawn  makes  little 
headway,  but  when  clearer  daylight  illumines  the 
wa}^  he  quickens  his  pace.  Hence  the  exhorta- 
tion of  the  apostle :  "Let  us  therefore  cast  off  the 
works  of  darkness,  and  let  us  put  on  the  whole 
armor  of  light.  Let  us  walk  honestly,  as  in  the 
day."  For  as  long  as  light  and  darkness  strive 
for  mastery  in  the  soul,  there  is  continual  hesi- 
tancy and  slipping  of  the  foot.  But  with  more 
light  there  comes  more  moral  courage.  We  be- 
come more  animated,  we  become  more  bold  in 
holy  undertakings,  and  more  light  shines  out  from 
us  upon  others.  Instead  of  tottering,  the  step 
becomes  firm;  instead  of  work  half-done,  labors 
are  finished  and  made  perfect.  Nor  is  this  all. 
For  however  far  we  may  be  developed  along 
moral  lines,  development  in  piety  is  more  sig- 
nificant, and  the  rich  gain  which  the  clearer  in- 
shining  of  heavenl}^  light  brings,  is  the  growing 
tenderness  of  our  fellowship  with  God. 

Dark  night  prevails  in  the  human  heart  at  large 
through  the  oppression  of  error  and  sin.  God  truly 
is,  and  he  truly  is  close  by,  but  though  mankind 
maj'  feel  its  waj^  if  haply  it  may  find  him,  it 
is  not  aware  of  him,  it  does  not  see  him,  and 
discovers  nothing  of  his  holy  presence.  Thick 
darkness  compasses  it  about  and  makes  it  feel 
oppressed,  and  the  sense  of  uncertainty,  and  of 
anxiet}',  as  a  serpent  of  suspicion,  creeps  into  the 

339 


heart.  This  thick  darkness  is  the  explanation  of 
all  idolatry  and  of  all  heathen  oppression.  And 
therefore  Simeon  rejoices  m  Christ  as  in  "a  light," 
so  great,  so  beautiful,  which  having  come  down 
from  the  throne  of  heaven,  lightens  the  darkened 
vision  of  the  Gentiles.  The  densest  darkness  of 
the  peoples  is  that  they  know  not  God,  that  end- 
less night  excludes  them  from  God,  that  no  ray 
of  heavenly  light  illumines  their  pathway,  and 
that,  without  God  in  the  world,  they  hasten  on 
to  judgment. 

Every  convert  therefore  is  called  a  child  of 
light.  He  does  not  merely  walk  in  the  light,  but 
from  it  he  is  born  a  child  of  God.  Light  in  the 
soul  from  above,  even  though  but  a  single  ray 
is  perceived,  is  inward  wealth.  It  is  peace  in  lieu 
of  distress,  rest  in  lieu  of  care,  trust  in  lieu  of 
despair,  courage  in  lieu  of  inward  faintness.  This 
light  shines  on  his  way,  it  makes  him  know  his 
own  heart  and  the  heart  of  his  fellowmen,  it 
brings  wisdom  in  place  of  self-conceit,  and  en- 
nobles all  human  existence.  But  highest  and 
holiest  of  all,  this  light  discloses  to  him  more  and 
more  the  way  of  access  to  God;  it  lifts  the  ban 
that  separated  and  excluded  him  from  God;  and 
now  by  degrees  begins  the  tender,  blessed  life 
which  enters  upon  the  secret  walk  with  God, 
which  makes  him  aware  of  God  at  every  step  of 
life's  way,  as  his  Father  who  loves  him,  and  as 
his  Shepherd  who  leads  him.  This  fellowship  and 
walk  with  God,  this  dweUing  in  the  house  of  the 
Lord,  is  not  always  the  same  that  it  provisionally 
was,  but  it  advances,  it  makes  progress,  gains  in 
intimacy,  warmth  and  clearness.  Not  only  is  the 
night,  that  hid  God  from  the  inner  eye,  far  spent, 

S40 


but  he  gets  farther  and  farther  away  from  it.  The 
transition  is  continuous  from  night  into  clearer 
day,  until  at  length  there  is  fellowship  with  God, 
which  the  world  neither  knows  nor  understands, 
but  which  to  him  is  highest  reality,  the  source, 
the  ever  free-flowing  fountain  of  the  strength  of 
his  life. 

Many  Christian  people,  alas,  after  conversion 
love  to  remain  in  slumber,  and  consequently  lose 
the  joy  of  this  closer  communion  with  God.  They 
are  the  sick  ones  among  the  brethren,  from  whom 
no  virtue  can  go  out.  There  are  others,  however, 
God  be  praised,  who  know  nothing  of  standing 
still,  who  enter  ever  more  deeply  into  the  secret 
of  the  infinite,  and  now  waken  every  morning  with 
God,  labor  all  day  long  with  God,  and  lay  them- 
selves down  at  night  to  sleep  with  God.  And  thej' 
are  the  salt  of  the  earth,  and  of  God's  church 
among  the  saints,  and  they  keep  the  church  from 
desecration  and  from  languishing  away  in  death. 

64 

"WITHOUT  GOD  IN  THE  WORLD." 

Not  only  with  individuals,  but  in  broad  and 
influential  circles  denial  of  God  breaks  forth, 
stalks  abroad,  and  puts  every  mask  aside.  This 
was  different  even  twenty  years  ago.  Individual 
atheists  openly  boasted  of  infidelity,  and  thereby 
aroused  aversion,  which  with  many  turned  into 
abhorrence.  Many  people  were  done  with  religion 
in  any  form,  but  to  be  taken  for  atheists  was  con- 
sidered an  insult.  They  were  not  atheists.  They 
had  broken  with  traditional  views  of  Divine  things, 
but  the  eye  of  their  soul  was  open  to  the  eternal, 

341 


so  the}'  said,  and  their  heart  still  went  out  after 
the  unknown  Infinite. 

Now  another  step  is  taken.  Even  the  appear- 
ance of  godliness  can  be  laid  aside.  Atheists  have 
discovered  that  especially  among  cultivated 
classes  they  are  represented  by  more  people  than 
they  had  dared  to  surmise.  They  observe  that 
when  they  confess  their  denial  of  God,  public 
opinion  takes  it  calmly,  and  at  times  hails  it  as 
an  evidence  of  honesty.  Even  among  the  faith- 
ful we  have  become  so  accustomed  to  the  grow- 
ing numbers  of  those  who  deny  God  that  we  are 
scarcely  aware  of  the  trembling  which  it  occa- 
sioned in  better  days. 

This  is  significant.  When  a  child  for  the  first 
time  hears  his  father  or  mother  evilly  spoken  of, 
he  resents  it.  But  when  in  the  course  of  ten 
years  he  has  grown  accustomed  to  such  talk,  and 
can  listen  to  it  calmlj^,  he  has  suffered  moral  loss. 
This  applies  to  a  nation  with  respect  to  its 
sovereign.  When  violation  of  royal  dignity  first 
begins,  indignation  will  be  general.  But  when 
this  violation  is  continued,  and  royal  defects  form 
the  topic  of  daily  public  talk,  people  cease  to  be 
affected  by  it.  Respect  for  what  is  high  becomes 
outworn.  And  in  the  same  waj'-  a  people  has 
lost  something  of  the  gold  of  its  wings,  when  in 
its  best  circles  it  has  become  so  accustomed  to 
the  language  of  atheism,  that  it  raises  no  more 
protest  among  them.  Especially  along  this  line 
evil  communications  corrupt  good  manners.  Here 
a  poison  works  unobservedly  that  extinguishes 
higher  aspirations  and  unnerves  the  elasticity  of 
confession. 

"Without  God  in  the  world"  is  not  the  most 

342 


dangerous  fofm  of  atheism.  Many  are  atheists 
from  sheer  indifference.  They  care  for  nothing. 
Others  are  atheists,  because  in  their  career  of  sin- 
ful pleasure  the}^  will  not  brook  trouble  from  their 
consciences.  Others  again  are  atheists,  because  in 
their  own  wisdom  they  are  too  proud  to  bow 
before  God.  But  each  of  these  three  groups  main- 
tains discreet  silence  about  God,  rather  than  that 
from  enmity  it  would  seriously  oppose  the  faith. 
They  live  "without  God  in  the  world"  but  thej- 
are  no  fanatics,  who  strive  to  banish  God  from 
the  world.  When  it  comes  to  this,  spiritual  infat- 
uation reaches  its  highest  degree,  and  every  pros- 
pect of  recovery  is  cut  off. 

That  this  atheistic  fanaticism  obtains  public 
hearing  from  time  to  time,  and  that  tracts,  bear- 
ing the  most  shameful  titles^  are  broadcast  through 
the  land,  to  slander  faith  in  God  and  to  make  it 
appear  ridiculous,  is  most  dangerous  for  the  life 
of  a  nation.  For  it  betrays  the  presence  of  a 
poison  in  national  life  that  is  bound  to  work  harm 
and  to  break  national  elasticity.  Even  among  the 
heathen,  slander  of  the  gods  was  made  punish- 
able; and  almost  every  nation  that  was  great  at 
first  and  then  went  down,  shows  in  history  this 
sad  process,  that  it  began  with  wealth ;  that  wealth 
produced  moral  decay;  that  moral  decay  led  to 
religious  indifference;  that  then  in  more  culti- 
vated circles  people  lived  "without  God  in  the 
world;"  and  that  at  length  fanaticism  broke  out 
against  all  religion,  whereby  at  last  the  people 
became  wholly  degenerate  and  were  overtaken  by 
disgraceful  ruin. 

In  the  days  of  St.  Paul  like  conditions  of  un- 
godliness prevailed  in  Ephesus,  and  of  the  con- 

343 


verts  there  to  Christ  it  is  said  that  at  one  time 
they  themselves  were  without  hope  and  without 
God  in  the  world  (Eph.  2:12).  And  this  states 
painfully  what  we  see  all  about  us.  With  dif- 
ferences in  degree  many  live  year  after  year  who 
think  no  more  of  God,  and  speak  no  more  about 
him;  no  more  religious  books  are  found  in  their 
homes;  they  never  pray,  and  their  children  grow 
up  without  religion.  Baptism  is  no  more  known. 
They  marry  outside  of  the  church.  They  bury 
their  dead  as  we  bury  a  dog.  Their  lives  without 
God  in  the  world,  as  such,  are  perfect. 

But  most  people  have  not  gone  such  lengths. 
At  marriage  they  can  not  dispense  with  the 
solemnity  of  the  church  service.  Many  have  their 
children  baptized.  In  times  of  serious  illness  they 
still  call  upon  God.  Some  do  not  consider  relig- 
ion superfluous  in  the  education  of  children,  and 
allow  their  servants  time  to  attend  church.  But 
apart  from  these  minor  exceptions  they  live  for 
the  rest  altogether  in  the  world  without  God. 
And  the  worst  of  it  is  that  they  can  live  in  this 
manner  year  after  year,  and  not  feel  unhappy 
about  it.  The  sense  of  need  of  communion  with 
a  higher  life  is  almost  wholly  lost  from  their  hearts, 
and  they  do  not  miss  life  with  God.  Living  in 
the  world  without  God  has  become  their  second 
nature.  When  it  is  over,  all  is  done.  No  more 
voice  in  the  soul  speaks  of  desire  after  higher 
things.  From  one  pleasure  they  go  to  another, 
and  however  little  religion  we  would  measure  out 
to  them,  it  would  not  satisfy  them,  but  prove  a 
burden.  The  same  tenor  of  mind  and  heart  which 
was  abroad  for  two  thousand  years  in  the  declin- 
ing world  of  the  pagan  Roman  Empire  has  made 
344 


itself  master  of  these  present-day  out-and-out 
people  of  the  world.  They  still  strive  for  higher 
things.  They  are  lovers  of  art.  They  are  zealous 
in  works  of  philanthropy.  They  labor  for  general 
culture  as  they  understand  it.  At  times  they  dote 
with  ideals  that  awaken  the  poetic  talent  in  them. 
But  far  from  being  led  thereby  to  worship,  this 
higher,  more  ideal  Hfe  is  the  ground  from  which 
they  explain  the  superfluity  of  religion.  Religion 
may  do  for  the  lower  classes  of  society.  They 
have  outgrown  it.  To  live  without  God  in  the 
world  they  consider  a  means  by  which  to  secure 
high  places  of  honor  in  the  life  of  this  world. 

Love  alone  can  save  the  world  from  these  con- 
ditions. At  Ephesus  there  were  people  who  at 
one  time  lived  without  God  in  the  world,  but  who 
by  hundreds  were  turned  to  God,  not  by  reproaches 
and  uncharitable  criticisms,  but  by  the  love  where- 
with the  apostles  approached  them.  In  this  apos- 
tolic love  the  reality  of  life  in  the  world  with  God 
was  luminous.  This  thawed  out  hearts  and  cap- 
tured them.  This  reality  is  not  devoid  of  creed. 
There  is  no  greater  witness  for  the  truth  and  the 
facts  of  the  Gospel  than  St.  Paul.  This  reality 
of  life  with  God  is  not  without  forms.  Preaching, 
Baptism  and  Holy  Communion  stand  ever  in  the 
foreground.  But  the  power  behind  the  creed  and 
the  service  of  forms  was  the  work  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  his  indwelling  in  the  heart,  and  life  in 
constant  fellowship  with  God.  If  then  the  church 
of  God  would  raise  a  barrier  in  the  way  of  in- 
creasing atheism  of  our  times,  let  her  hold  fast  to 
her  confession,  and  honor  the  sacred  services  of 
the  sanctuary.  But  above  all  things  else,  let  her 
guard  the  essence  that  is  behind  these  forms,  and 

345 


cultivate  with  young  and  old  the  supreme  reality 
of  life  with  God. 

This  requires  effort.  We  must  live  in  the  world. 
God  only  calls  us  out  of  the  world  at  death.  And 
almost  everything  in  the  world  draws  us  away 
from  God.  Not  only  wealth  and  temptation,  but 
also  the  incessant  activity  of  life,  labor  that  is 
strenuous,  multiplicity  of  interests,  much  trouble 
and  sorrow.  Among  confessing  christians  there 
are  all  too  many,  therefore,  who  count  themselves 
christians  and  can  live  for  hours  and  for  days  at 
times  without  a  thought  of  God,  who  are  dis- 
tracted in  mind  even  in  their  prayer,  and  who  are 
scarcely  aware  of  what  it  means  to  be  ''near  unto 
God"  and  Vvith  him  to  live  in  constant  fellow- 
ship of  the  Spirit.  This  lack  can  not  be  made 
good  by  sound  creeds,  nor  by  constant  bearing 
witness.  Life  with  God  in  the  world  can  not  be 
replaced  by  much  activity  and  good  works.  The 
lamp  can  not  burn  unless  it  is  continually  fed 
with  oil.  Not  in  us,  but  in  God  alone  is  the  power 
and  the  might,  that  can  break  unbelief  in  the 
world.  And  in  this  conflict  we  can  only  be  instru- 
ments in  the  hand  of  the  Lord,  when  his  power 
inwardly  animates  us,  when  his  Spirit  inwardly 
impels  us,  and  when  ''to  be  near  unto  God"  and 
in  the  midst  of  the  world  to  live  with  God,  has 
become  our  second,  our  regenerated  nature. 

65 

'T  WILL  WALK  AMONG  YOU." 
Vital  fellowship  with  God  can  not  merely  be  per- 
sonal. It  must  also  be  collective.  Whatever  touches 
merely  the  world  of  our  own  heart  is  personal. 
And  whatever  we  go  through  with  others,  who  are 


connected  with  us  by  fixed  ties,  is  collective. 
There  is  a  collective  life  of  the  family,  of  the 
church,  of  callings  and  professions,  and  of  nations. 
And  that  there  is  vital  fellowship  with  God  in  the 
secret  places  of  the  soul,  is  not  enough.  In  the 
family  also,  in  the  church  and  in  social  life  fellow- 
ship with  God  must  be  a  power.  And  it  must  be 
expressed  in  this:  that  God  walks  with  us  and  we 
with  God.  Not  only  the  first,  but  also  the  sec- 
ond. It  is  not  enough  that  personally  and  collec- 
tively we  have  blessed  experiences  of  continuous 
outgoings  of  the  soul  after  God.  This  can  always 
be  the  practice  of  communion  with  God  from 
afar.  Walking  together  the  highway  of  life  de- 
mands on  the  contrarj'  that  we  go  to  God,  that 
God  comes  to  us,  that  the  holy  meeting  is  mutual, 
and  that  hand  in  hand  with  God  we  continue  the 
journey  of  life.  When  it  has  come  to  this  with 
us  personally,  we  are  in  a  christian  way.  When 
it  has  come  to  this  in  our  family,  we  have  a 
Christian  home.  When  this  is  the  case  in  our 
church,  we  enjoy  a  church  life,  which  is  not 
merely  Christian  in  i.ame  but  in  fact.  And  when 
in  social  or  state  circles  we  have  the  same  experi- 
ence with  those  who  are  of  like  calling  or  con- 
viction with  ourselves,  then  here  also  the  Chris- 
tian banner  not  merely  has  been  raised,  but  the 
cause  for  which,  together,  we  suffer  and  strive  is 
truly  Christian. 

To  Moses  and  Israel  the  Lord  expressed  this  as 
follows:  'T  will  walk  among  you"  (Lev.  26:12). 
In  the  case  of  Abraham  it  is  only  said  personally, 
that  he  walked  with  God.  But  with  Moses  there 
is  mention  of  collective  fellowship  of  God  with 
his  people.     Hence  it  does  not  say:     'T  will  be 

347 


with  you,  as  shepherd  of  my  people,"  but  far 
better:  **I  will  walk  in  the  midst  of  you"  (Dutch 
version).  The  Lord  going  forth  with  his  people, 
and  at  every  step  of  the  way  the  people  being 
conscious  of  his  nearness  and  of  their  fellowship 
with  God. 

This  can  be  fellowship  from  both  sides,  a  walk- 
ing together  of  the  way  in  holy  love.  But  it  can 
also  be  a  walking  together  in  sin  on  the  part  of 
man  and  in  indignation  on  the  part  of  God.  *Tf 
.  .  .  ye  will  walk  contrary  unto  me"  said  the 
Lord,  "then  will  I  also  walk  contrary  unto  you, 
and  will  punish  you  yet  seven  times  for  your  sins" 
(vs.  23,  24) .  Contrariness  is  what  we  call  antipathy. 
We  can  walk  with  a  man  who  is  antipathetic  to 
us,  whose  presence  is  not  agreeable,  and  whose 
company  is  not  desired.  He  who  feels  and  observes 
that  God  walks  with  him  on  the  way,  and  still 
inclines  unto  sin,  feels  constrained  by  the  pres- 
ence of  the  Lord.  Even  as  a  child,  that  is  bent 
upon  mischief,  does  not  dare  to  do  it,  as  long  as 
father  or  mother  is  close  by,  but  takes  his  chance 
the  moment  father  or  mother  is  gone,  so  a  Chris- 
tian man  does  not  dare  to  carry  his  sinful  design 
into  execution,  so  long  as  he  feels  that  God  is 
near.  If  only  he  could  outrun  God.  But  this  is 
impossible.  He  can  close  his  eyes  so  as  not  to 
see  God,  but  even  then  the  Lord  continues  to 
reveal  his  presence  in  the  conscience.  This  gives 
rise  to  the  unholy  strife  of  willingness  to  sin,  and 
of  inability  to  do  it,  because  God  stands  in  the 
way.  And  if  sin  is  not  abandoned,  contrariness 
to  God  springs  up  in  the  heart,  even  the  deeply- 
sinful  antipathy  to  the  nearness  of  God.  And 
since  there  is  nothing  that  so  angers  God,  as  the 

348 


desire,  the  tendency  of  the  heart,  not  to  seek,  but 
to  be  delivered  from,  God,  the  favor  of  God  to 
usward  turns  into  holy  antipathy.  Thus  the  path- 
way of  life  is  walked  with  God  in  enmity  and  in 
bitterness,  and  the  Holy  Spirit  is  grieved. 

This  does  not  happen  with  a  child  of  the  world. 
He  does  not  walk  with  God.  He  walks  alone.  He 
perceives  nothing,  feels  nothing,  sees  nothing  of 
the  nearness  of  God.  Hence  he  can  not  fall  into 
sin  in  this  way.    His  sin  bears  another  character. 

But  if  we  belong  to  the  company  of  the  re- 
deemed, if  we  walk  with  people  in  whose  midst 
the  Lord  walks,  all  sinful  living  must  be  stopped, 
or  else,  if  it  is  yet  continued,  the  terrible  sin  of 
contrariness,  of  antipathy  to  God  will  spring  up 
in  the  heart.  The  inner  life  of  the  soul  will  be 
corrupted,  and  presently  all  of  the  after-life  on 
earth.  And  the  ill-omened  deception  is,  that  this 
contrariness,  this  antipathy  only  shows  itself,  at 
the  point  of  some  special  sin.  This  gives  rise  to 
these  monstrous  conditions,  that  in  all  other  ways 
a  man  may  seek  after  God,  may  be  zealous  in 
Divine  service,  may  maintain  devout  habits  of 
prayer,  but  as  often  as  this  particular  sin  comes 
in  question,  may  lose  at  once  all  self-control,  and 
perceiving  that  God  continues  to  walk  with  him, 
may  feel  no  longer  comforted  by  thi^  blessed  near- 
ness, but  merely  hindered  thereby  in  his  sin.  And 
if  the  sin  is  still  persisted  in,  the  most  terrible 
contrariness  follows,  even  the  dreadful  contrari- 
ness of  God. 

The  case  is  not  the  same  with  sin  that  is  com- 
mitted from  lack  of  strength.  For  then  when 
tempted,  the  heart  will  seek  refuge  with  God.  We 
are  well  aware  at  such  times  that  Satan  plans  to 

349 


undo  us,  and  we  hold  ourselves  fast  bj^  God  for 
protection  against  evil.  And  we  may  stumble, 
but  even  in  the  act  of  it,  refuge  will  be  taken 
with  the  unseen  Companion  who  walks  at  our 
side.  He  will  be  invoked  for  forgiveness  and  help. 
And  he  who  knoweth  whereof  we  are  made,  will 
show  mercy  and  keep  us  from  self-destruction. 
Of  course  we  must  be  fully  bent  upon  following 
God  whithersoever  he  leadeth,  and  choose  no 
paths  of  our  own  with  the  expectation  that  God 
will  follow  us.  The  goings  of  God,  both  past  and 
present,  are  altogether  such  as  lead  to  the  king- 
dom of  heaven,  and  result  in  making  his  Name 
great. 

What  then  are  the  goings  of  our  life?  What  is 
our  aim  in  life?  Whither  doth  our  pathway  lead? 
As  children  of  God  we  pray  every  day:  "Hal- 
lowed be  Thy  Name,  Thy  Kingdom  Come,  Thy 
Will  be  Done;"  and  if  this  three-fold  prayer  is 
not  a  mere  form  of  words,  but  the  compass  of 
our  life,  our  goings  will  be  identical  with  the 
goings  of  God.  Then  we  and  God  walk  the  same 
wa--.  in  the  same  direction,  with  the  same  end  in 
view.  He  in  infinite  greatness,  and  we  in  the 
insignificant  littleness  of  our  quickly-passing  life. 
But  as  individual  drops  we  move  along  in  the 
wave-beat  of  the  ocean  of  God.  All  of  life  then 
moves  itself  in  the  direction  of  the  mighty  ap- 
pointment of  God,  and  in  this  way  we  can  walk 
with  God,  the  whiles  he  walks  with  us,  and  from 
both  sides  it  is  continued  in  the  bond  of  holy 
love. 

But  this  is  almost  only  possible  in  collective 
fellowship.  One  only  has  ever  trodden  the  wine- 
press alone.     Every   other  hero   of  the  faith  has 

350 


been  upborne  by  the  example,  sympathy  and  fel- 
lowship of  what  is  called  the  people  of  God.  This 
is  a  sacred  appellation,  which  no  single  group  may 
arbitrarily  appropriate  to  itself,  and  which  is  only 
real  where  God  himself  walks  in  the  midst  of 
those  who  share  his  favor.  We  are  at  once  aware 
in  family,  in  church  and  in  society,  whether  pur- 
poses and  endeavors  coincide  with  the  goings  of 
God,  or  whether  they  are  mere  exhibits  of  out- 
ward forms  of  piety.  These  mere  outward  forms 
do  not  satisfy,  they  lend  no  support,  they  do  not 
bear  one  up.  Rest  is  only  found  when  it  is  per- 
ceived that  the  presence  of  the  Lord  is  a  spiritual 
reality  in  the  family,  in  the  church,  and  in  society, 
and  that  God  himself  walks  in  the  midst  of  them. 
Then  it  is  not  enough  that  God  walks  with  us 
and  that  we  walk  with  him,  but  we  feel  that  the 
same  is  true  of  the  wife,  the  husband,  the  chil- 
dren, the  brother  or  sister,  the  preacher,  church 
officials,  societies  and  associations.  We  know  it  of 
one  another.  We  make  the  nearness  of  God 
clearer  and  more  real  to  one  another.  We  are 
not  silent  about  it.  We  enjoy  it  together.  Collec- 
tively we  receive  from  him  the  sacred  impulse 
with  united  forces  to  continue  in  his  goings,  and 
to  hold  his  name  high.  The  Lord  is  then  not 
only  close  to  the  heart,  but  he  is  in  the  midst  of 
us.  He  is  the  common  center  of  all  our  interests 
and  the  tie  that  binds  us  together.  It  is  then  not 
merely  a  pious  frame  of  mind  but  a  godly  life,  a 
consecrated  purpose,  and  zealous  co-operation 
from  which  that  holy  activity  is  born,  which  in 
every  department  of  life  overcomes  the  world 
and  makes  virtues  to  go  out,  which  are  not  from 
us,  but  which  flame  out  in  us  from  him  who  walks 

2U 


in  the  midst  of  us,  because  he  is  the  source  of  our 
light,  of  our  strength  and  of  the  inspiration  of 
our  hfe. 


"THAT  THOU  MAYEST  CLEAVE  UNTO 
HIM." 

Sin  nowhere  makes  more  rapid  advances  than 
in  religion.  Religion  is  the  service  of  the  Triune 
God.  It  is  the  highest  and  best  that  enriches  the 
human  heart.  But  the  best  is  always  the  first 
that  is  exposed  to  corruption. 

Outside  of  Europe  and  America  the  Almighty 
created  and  supports  a  thousand  million  persons 
who  continually  die  and  are  replaced,  but  who 
in  this  coming  and  going  are  utter  strangers  to 
the  secret  of  salvation.  Missionshave  done  some- 
thing, but  what  are  they  compared  with  the  thou- 
sand millions  of  Asia  and  Africa,  and  the  united 
forces  of  Islam  and  Heathendom?  These  mil- 
lions, especially  in  Asia,  are  by  nature  very  sus- 
ceptible to  religious  impressions,  much  more  so 
in  fact  than  most  of  the  nations  of  Europe.  But 
they  choose  their  own  way,  and  are  dead  to  all 
true  knowledge  of  the  way  of  the  Lord.  And  as 
often  as  God  from  his  Throne  looks  down  upon 
those  millions  in  Asia  and  Africa,  there  is  never 
an  echo  among  them  of  the  songs  of  worship  and 
praise  of  the  heavenly  hosts.  They  kneel  down 
before  all  sorts  of  things,  but  they  never  worship 
the  Triune  God. 

Compared  with  this  darkness  of  night  in  Asia 
and  Africa,  in  Europe  and  America  it  is  light. 
There  is  scarcely  a  village  in  these  parts  of  the 
world,  in  which  the  sacrament  of  Baptism  is  not 


administered,  where  there  is  no  church  of  Christ, 
large  or  small,  and  where  there  are  not  some 
deeply  spiritual  souls  that  live  very  "near  unto 
God."  This  makes  no  secret  of  the  fact  however 
that  in  thickly-populated  centers  and  even  in 
larger  villages  the  great  majority  of  people  are 
either  dead  to  the  service  of  the  Lord,  or  merely 
adhere  to  it  outwardly,  and  attach  no  single  trace 
of  spiritual  reality  to  it.  When  this  lack  of  re- 
ligion began  to  assume  ever  larger  and  more 
unequal  proportions,  a  gigantic  effort  was  put  forth 
to  purify  Divine  service,  to  reform  and  to  trans- 
form it,  which  at  first  worked  admirably.  But 
now  look  at  the  Geneva  of  Calvin,  the  Saxony  of 
Luther,  or  at  the  Hague  of  William  the  Silent, 
and  confess  whether  we  do  not  face  new  disap- 
pointments, and  whether  the  half  of  the  popula- 
tion of  these  places  is  not  estranged  again  from 
true  religion.  By  means  of  the  Reveille  and  of 
the  spread  of  infidelity  Christian  revival  ensued, 
which  fortunately  is  making  progress,  but  even 
in  the  circles  that  have  been  revived,  we  feel 
troubled  again  at  the  coldness,  formalism  and 
manifest  lack  of  sacred  fire.  Even  when  we  con- 
fine ourselves  to  the  narrowest  circle  of  the  fam- 
ilies that  is  still  devoted  to  the  service  of  the 
Lord,  and  examine  to  what  degree  of  heat  the 
spiritual  arose  and  maintained  itself  in  it,  we  are 
constantly  disappointed,  and  we  ask  again  and 
again  whether  that  is  all  that  is  felt  for,  and  con- 
secrated to,  our  faithful  God  and  Father.  And 
when  at  last  we  look  at  our  own  family,  and 
closer  still  confine  ourselves  to  our  own  heart, 
and  ask  ourselves  what  the  inner  life  for  and  with 
God  is,  in  home  and  heart,  and  what  it  ought  to 

353 


be  for  this  faithful  Father,  who  is  not  moved  to 
ask  in  despair,  whether  constant,  inward,  tender, 
ever-in-grace  increasing  piety  has  not  become 
impossible  for  us? 

This  question  can  only  in  part  be  answered  in 
the  affirmative.  Sin  works  effects  which  ener- 
vate and  weaken,  so  that  even  in  the  most  godly 
circles  true  religion  is  most  of  the  time  at  low 
ebb,  and  only  in  rare  moments  of  spiritual 
tension  does  it  rise  to  the  fullness  of  flood-tide. 
The  result  is  disheartening.  God  looks  down  upon 
this  world  morning  by  morning  and  evening  by 
evening,  and  continues  his  Fatherly  care  over  his 
fourteen  hundred  million  of  children  of  men,  but 
only  here  and  there  does  the  psalm  of  worship 
and  pure  love  arise  before  him  from  a  tender, 
devout  heart. 

But  age  upon  age  God  continues  in  everlasting 
love  to  entice  us  by  his  Word,  to  call  us  and  to 
draw  us  to  this  full,  true  and  unshakable  religion, 
which  finds  its  terse  expression  in  the  supreme 
command  that  we  shall  cleave  unto  the  Lord  our 
God  (Deut.  30:20).  It  is  the  image  of  the  child 
at  mother's  breast,  who  literally  cleaves  to  her, 
and  hangs  on  her,  fosters  himself  in  the  warmth 
of  the  mother-life,  feeds  himself  at  the  fountain 
of  mother's  breast,  and  cries  when  he  feels  him- 
self separated  from  mother.  And  this  supreme 
command,  that  we  must  depend  on  God,  and 
cleave  to  him,  protests  in  the  name  of  the  Triune 
God  against  all  mechanical  religion,  and  against 
every  endeavor  to  reduce  it  to  mere  formalism. 
It  does  not  exclude  thinking  on  God,  but  declares 
that  intellectual  activity  with  God  is  not  religion. 
It  includes  the  confes.sion  of  God,  but  denies  the 

S54 


right  to  assert  that  religion  consists  of  confession. 
It  posits  the  claim  of  an  holy  life,  and  of  abound- 
ing in  good  works,  but  deprives  us  of  the  illusion 
that  true  piety  can  ever  be  satisfied  with  this. 
It  certainly  demands  high  esteem  for  outward 
forms  of  Divine  service,  but  resists  the  error 
which  identifies  forms  with  the  essence  of  religion 
itself.  It  is  inconceivable  apart  from  zeal  for 
God's  kingdom,  but  it  declares  that  though  all  of 
life  is  spent  for  God,  apart  from  love,  we  are  mere 
sounding  brass  or  tinkling  cymbals.  It  tolerates 
no  boast  of  true  religion  apart  from  personal 
fellowship  with  God  in  the  secret  intimacy  of 
communion.  And  even  when  we  can  thank  him 
for  the  grace,  that  at  times  in  earnest  prayer  this 
heavenly  fellowship  with  God  in  Christ  was  food 
for  the  soul,  it  still  declares,  that  this  occasional 
seeking  after  and  visiting  with  God  is  not  yet  all 
of  true  religion,  because  true  religion  demands, 
that  without  break  or  interruption  we  shall  cleave 
unto  God,  and  hang  as  it  were  on  God.  Such 
dependence  upon  God  imj)lies,  that  moment  by 
moment,  we  feel  God's  presence  in  the  heart,  and 
that  with  all  the  powers  of  our  soul  we  hold 
ourselves  fast  by  God. 

But  holiest  saints  confess,  that  such  inward 
spirituality  is  impossible  in  this  life.  The  heart 
is  not  attuned  to  it,  and  life  round  about  us  is 
not  adapted  to  it.  Simple  honesty  demands  that 
this  be  openly  and  candidly  confessed,  provided 
it  be  accompanied  with  self-accusation  and  shame- 
facedness.  Attainment  of  this  highest  good  has 
been  tried.  In  every  age  there  have  been  those 
who  for  the  sake  of  cleaving  solely  unto  God 
have  renounced  life  in  the  world,  and  have  with- 

366 


drawn  themselves  to  cell  or  hermitage.  But 
though  they  could  banish  the  world  from  the 
cloister,  they  took  their  hearts  with  them,  and  it 
was  the  heart  itself  that  obstructed  the  way  to 
closer  fellowship  with  God.  This  was  possible  in 
Paradise,  and  has  become  such  again  in  the  con- 
gregation of  the  saints  made  perfect  above.  But 
it  is  not  within  reach  here  on  earth.  We  may  not 
withdraw  ourselves  from  life.  We  have  here  a 
calling  to  fulfil,  and  to  do  service  for  our  God. 
We  can  not  separate  ourselves  from  the  heart. 
It  is  ever  with  us.  But  God  knoweth  what  we 
are  made  of.  He  remembereth  that  we  are  dust. 
And  he  covers  our  guilt,  of  not  reaching  the  un- 
reachable, in  gracious  forgiveness. 

Only  we  are  not  to  rest  content  with  this.  We 
must  not  resign  ourselves  to  this.  We  must  hold 
the  imperfection  of  our  religion  ever  clearly  before 
our  eyes.  We  must  enter  complaint  against  our- 
selves, which  will  itself  become  the  stimulus  to 
seek  from  day  to  day,  and  from  week  to  week, 
after  closer  fellowship  with  God.  And  here  is 
the  difference  between  superficial  and  true  religion. 
The  superficial  worshipper  understands  that  he 
can  never  attain  unto  such  an  unbroken  cleaving 
to  God,  and  so  he  continues  his  life  calmly  and 
peacefully,  without  ever  finding  the  secret  walk 
with  God.  All  deeper  and  truer  piety  on  the 
other  hand  is  grieved,  that  this  fellowship  of  soul 
with  the  faithful,  loving  Father  is  continually 
broken.  Whenever  it  perceives  that  it  has  lost 
its  hold  on  God,  it  trembles.  It  rebukes  itself 
and  courageously  strives  to  restore  the  broken 
communion,   until    in   the    end,   the   moments   of 

356 


life  spent  with  God  increase,  and  the  moments  of 
separation  from  God  decrease. 

To  cleave  unto  the  Lord  with  all  the  heart 
and  soul  and  consciousness  is  then  at  first  a 
heavenly  joy  which  ma}^  be  tasted  only  once  in 
a  whole  month.  Gradually  it  becomes  a  com- 
munion of  soul  without  which  no  week  pa^es. 
By  degrees  it  becomes  an  elevation  of  soul  which 
repeats  itself  almost  daily.  Going  on  this  way, 
this  happy  joy  in  God  returns  several  times  a  day, 
so  that  even  by  night,  upon  waking,  the  nearness 
of  the  Lord  is  consciously^  felt.  And  though  even 
so,  the  highest  still  remains  beyond  our  reach, 
cleaving  unto  God  begins  to  occupy  ever  wider 
room  in  our  lives.  And  not  intimacy  with  God  in 
solitude,  but  intimac}'  with  God  in  the  midst  of 
our  busy  lives  becomes  the  booty  of  the  soul. 
Then  it  is  no  more  a  singing  after  Asaph:  "It  is 
good  for  me  to  be  near  unto  God,"  but  it  be- 
comes a  singing  like  Asaph  from  blessed  experi- 
ence of  heart. 

67 

''SAMUEL  DID  NOT  YET  KNOW  THE 
LORD." 

When  it  is  asked  of  a  person  whether  we  know 
him,  the  meaning  can  be  twofold.  Casually,  it 
may  mean  whether  we  would  know  him  if  we 
met  him.  With  respect  to  his  character  it  may 
mean  whether  we  understand  him.  He,  who  on 
the  eve  of  your  departure  for  Java,  entrusts  an 
important  document  to  your  care,  for  sbme  one 
living  there,  merely  intends  by  the  question 
whether  you  know  him,  to  prevent  j^our  handing 
the  same  to  the  wrong  person.  When,  however, 
357 


some  one  consults  his  father  about  a  business 
scheme  with  some  man,  the  father's  question  in 
reply:  ''Do  you  know  him,"  will  mean:  Are 
you  sure  that  he  is  honorable,  reliable  and  trust- 
worthy as  to  his  business  ability? 

This  two-fold  significance  of  knowing  anyone 
personally  must  be  reckoned  with  in  Scripture  and 
in  knowledge  of  God.  To  know  is  always  funda- 
mentally an  observation  of  difference.  He  who  is 
not  conversant  with  botany,  only  sees  trees  and 
shrubs;  while  he  who  observes  the  difference  be- 
tween oak  and  beech  trees,  oleander  and  rhodo- 
dendron, jasmine  and  snowball,  begonia  and 
heliotrope,  recognizes  what  he  sees  and  rejoices 
in  the  wealth  of  it.  The  same  is  true  among  peo- 
ple. In  the  business  street  of  a  foreign  city  we 
see  nothing  but  people  who  pass  us  bj^  without 
speaking,  while  in  our  home  town  every  one  is 
familiar  to  us,  and  we  even  know  the  name  some- 
times of  the  smallest  child.  But  this  goes  no 
further  than  the  difference  between  A  and  B.  We 
know  people  from  one  another.  We  know  the 
difference  between  them.  We  do  not  mistake 
them  in  passing.  Their  appearance  is  familiar. 
We  know  them  at  first  sight.  But  if  we  mean 
that  closer  and  more  intimate  knowledge  which 
enables  us  to  form  some  idea  of  a  man's  char- 
acter, inner  life,  endeavors  and  aims,  another  dif- 
ference is  at  stake.  Not  the  difference  in  cloth- 
ing, facial  features  and  outward  appearance,  but 
the  distinct  knowledge  of  a  man's  bearing,  utter- 
ances and  feelings.  Such  knowledge  becomes  a 
testing;  an  entering  into  the  inward  existence  of 
such  a  person. 

Where  it  is  told  of  Samuel  that  he  did  not  yet 

358 


know  the  Lord  (I  Sam.  3:7),  it  means  exclusively 
this  first  outward  knowledge;  and  not  the  deeper 
knowledge  of  the  Divine  Being,  which  only  springs 
from  secret  communion.  By  night  Samuel  heard 
himself  called  by  name.  He  heard  it  as  clearly 
and  plainly  as  though  Eli  had  called  him.  But 
he  did  not  j^et  know  the  difference  between  a 
call  by  name  from  God  and  a  call  by  name  from 
a  man.  Three  times  therefore  he  went  to  Eli, 
saying:  "Thou  didst  call  me."  And  only  when  Eli 
assured  him,  that  he  had  not  called  him,  and  at 
last  told  him  that  it  might  be  a  call  from  God, 
a  new  light  arose  upon  Samuel,  and  in  that  voice 
he  recognized  the  voice  of  God.  The  voice  is  a 
wonderful  mystery.  Every  person  has  his  own 
voice.  Even  in  the  dark  we  recognize  father,  hus- 
band or  brother  at  once  by  the  voice.  The  wonder 
is  equally  great  that  as  each  man  and  child  has 
a  voice  of  his  own,  we  are  able  to  distinguish 
between  them.  And  so  has  the  Lord  a  voice  of 
his  own  and  it  is  for  us  to  recognize  the  voice  of 
God  in  distinction  from  the  voice  of  man.  He 
who  does  not  understand  this  difference,  does  not 
know  the  Lord  as  yet.  He  who  understands  it. 
knows  the  Lord.  This  provisionallv  outward 
knowledge  of  God  leads  of  itself  to  the  more  inti- 
mate fellowship  of  the  Lord,  whereby  gradually 
the  full,  rich  knowledge  of  the  perfection  of  God 
is  attained,  which  is  eternal  life. 

In  this  knowledge  of  God  there  is  a  twofold 
dispensation.  The  first  in  Old  and  New  Testa- 
ment was  the  portion  of  patriarchs,  prophets  and 
apostles  They  received  a  special  revelation  from 
God.  God  spake  with  them  in  dreams,  visions 
and  appearances,  but  also  by  internal  address  in 

859 


their  hearts  or  by  external  address  to  their  ears. 
Of  course  this  might  have  been  continued,  so  that 
we,  everyone  personally  for  himself,  might  have 
heard  the  voice  of  God.  But  it  has  not  pleased 
God  so  to  do.  It  has  seemed  good  to  him  first 
to  give  his  revelation  personally  to  prophets  and 
apostles,  with  audible  voice  or  by  visible  appear- 
ance, and  lastly  in  the  incarnated  Word. 

Afterward,  however,  this  has  changed.  Revela- 
tion given  up  to  that  time  has  been  collected  in 
the  Scripture,  and  therein  it  has  become  the  com- 
mon good  of  all  believers,  the  permanent,  endur- 
ing treasure  of  the  whole  church  of  Christ.  This 
does  not  mean  to  say  that  now  there  is  no  more 
secret  fellowship  with  God,  nor  that  God  can  not 
give  anyone  now  personal  leading  and  direction; 
but  nothing  more  is  added  to  revelation.  To 
revealed  truth  nothing  more  is  added.  And  senti- 
mental mysticism  which  dreams  that  this  is  yet 
possible,  has  not  been  able  these  nineteen  cen- 
turies to  add  a  single  line  to  the  Scripture. 

The  method  of  knowing  the  Lord  has  thereby 
become  different  for  us  from  what  it  was  for 
Samuel.  For  us  the  Word  is  the  voice  of  God. 
We  do  no  longer  hear  ourselves  called  by  name. 
We  receive  no  more  by  audible  voices  new  light 
from  above.  Nevertheless  the  same  difference  goes 
on  in  our  behalf.  The  Scripture  speaks  to  every 
man,  but  with  this  difference,  that  one  does  not 
hear  God's  voice  in  it,  because  he  does  not  know 
God,  while  another  in  reading  Scripture  hears 
God's  voice  from  the  same,  because  grace  has 
brought  him  to  the  knowledge  of  God. 

This  is  hard  to  understand.  You,  who  have 
been  permitted  to  grasp  the  mystery  of  the  Word, 

360 


and  day  by  day  are  subject  of  the  blessed,  mysti- 
cal operation  of  the  same,  and  thereby  have  come 
to  fixed,  unshakable  faith,  you  are  amazed  that  in 
many  families  the  Bible  has  been  laid  aside;  that 
he  who  still  reads  it,  finds  nothing  special  in  it; 
and  that  you  are  bitterly  resisted,  when  you 
maintain  that  everyone  is  duty-bound  to  subject 
himself  to  that  Word.  And  yet  nothing  is  more 
simple.  They  who  have  broken  with  the  Scripture, 
do  not  know  the  Lord,  They  do  not  recognize 
his  voice,  and  do  not  perceive,  that  in  the  Scrip- 
ture Almighty  God  calls  to  them  and  addresses 
them.  This  makes  the  separation;  this  digs  the 
abyss;  this  divides  in  the  same  country  one  part 
of  the  population  from  the  other.  This  causes 
bitterness,  because  they  who  do  not  know  the 
Lord,  and  do  not  hear  his  address  nor  his  voice 
in  the  Scripture,  are  baptized  members  of  the 
Church  of  Christ;  they  not  only  want  to  be  called 
Christian,  but  pride  themselves  on  the  fact  that 
they  honor  Christianity  as  a  purely  moral  power; 
so  that  they  stand  on  higher  vantage  ground  and 
are  more  enlightened,  than  narrow  adherents  of 
barren  creeds. 

This  leads  to  ever  sharper  distinction  between 
people  and  people.  They  who  do  not  know  the 
Lord,  who  do  not  hear  his  Voice,  and  reject  his 
Word,  are  not  able  to  put  themselves  in  the 
place  of  their  fellow-countrymen,  who  delight 
themselves  in  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord,  who 
refresh  themselves  in  listening  to  his  voice  and 
who  have  in  his  Word  the  fixed  ground  of  their 
faith.  "While  on  the  other  hand  they  who  know 
the  Lord,  may  bear  witness  to  the  same,  may 
openly  confess  it,  and  defend  the  ordinances  of 

361 


Grod;  but  they  are  not  able  to  impart  their  faith 
to  others,  and  to  open  the  inner  ear  of  their 
fellowmen  to  the  holy  mysticism  of  our  God. 

There  is  a  difference  here.  Among  those  who  do 
not  know  the  Lord,  there  are  enemies  of  God 
who  have  stopped  their  ears  to  ever}^  voice  of 
God;  but  there  are  also  seeking,  wandering  spirits, 
who  envy  you  j'our  faith,  and  who  would  thank 
you  if  you  might  be  the  means  in  God's  hand  to 
bring  them  to  it.  Of  the  first,  Jesus  said:  "Give 
not  that  which  is  holy  unto  the  dogs,  neither  cast 
ye  your  pearls  before  swine"  (Matt.  7:6). 
Nothing  can  be  done  with  them  but  to  resist 
them;  to  suffer  their  scorn,  and  to  show  them  the 
power  of  faith.  But  of  the  others  Jesus  said: 
"He  who  is  not  against  me,  is  for  me."  On  them 
the   service   of   seeking   love   must   be   expended. 

They  are  the  spiritually'  sick,  who  wait  for 
spiritual  nin-sing-of  a  twofold  character.  First  that 
we  shall  treat  them  ever}'  one  according  to  the 
nature  of  his  spiritual  malady.  John  the  Baptist 
had  a  proper  word  for  everyone  that  came  to  him, 
and  Jesus  administered  appropriate  medicine  to 
every  spiritual  invalid.  This  implies  the  con- 
demnation of  those  who  deal  with  all  unbeliever?; 
alike,  and  who  thereby  show  that  they  know 
neither  their  way  nor  their  time.  And  secondly 
(his  spiritual  nursing  posits  the  no  less  imperious 
claim  that  as  believers  we  shall  spare  them  offense 
Nothing  is  more  repulsive  and  more  continuously 
offensive  to  those  who  have  not  faith,  than  the 
unspirituality  of  believers,  their  formal  profession 
without  moral  and  spiritual  fruit,  their  zeal  with- 
out an  holy  background,  their  bold  assertions 
without   corresponding   seriousness   of  life.     They 

862 


are  inclined  to  accept  the  sacred  mysteries,  pro- 
vided they  but  discover  that  sacred  power  goes 
out  from  you.  When  thej-  see  no  such  power; 
and  perceive  that  fruit  remains  wanting;  that 
there  is  no  higher  seriousness  of  life;  when  they 
hear  on  the  contrary,  of  hypocrites  who  behind 
fair  exteriors  prove  themselves  inferior  in  char- 
acter to  unbelievers,  they  are  offended,  and  this 
keeps  them  back  from  Christ. 

Such  was  the  case  in  the  days  of  Samuel,  when 
Hophni  and  Phineas  transgressed  in  holy  things, 
and  Eli  lacked  moral  courage  to  make  seriou? 
protest.  Such  is  the  case  now  when  he  who  calk 
himself  a  believer  appears  to  be  at  heart  a  child 
of  the  world.  Then  the  struggle  becomes  very 
fierce.  O,  that  the  children  of  God  might  under- 
stand their  sacred  calling,  to  confess  their  faith 
heroically,  but  above  all  else,  by  means  of  their 
family  life,  of  their  social  activities,  and  of  their 
seriousness  of  purpose;  in  brief,  in  all  of  life,  to 
be  preachers  of  Jesus  Christ. 

68 
"THEY  MAKE  HIM  A  WELL." 
In  countries  like  ours,  where  water  abounds,  it 
is  difficult  to  form  an  adequate  idea  of  thirst. 
Hence  words  of  Scripture  like  "thirsting  after 
righteousness,"  or  "thirsting  after  the  living  God," 
are  ordinarily  taken  in  far  too  weak  a  sense.  On 
a  hot  day,  after  a  long  walk,  or  in  times  of 
feverish  emotion,  we  may  reach  out  eagerly  after 
a  cup  of  cold  water,  but  this  is  by  no  means  yet 
the  thirst  tliat  overtakes  people  in  mountainous 
districts,  when  not  metaphorically,  but  actually, 
the  tongue  cleaves  to  the  roof  of  the  mouth,  the 


last  drop  of  saliva  is  dried  up,  and  the  swollen 
throat  with  difficulty  allows  the  breath  to  pass 
through.  With  such  a  thirst  it  becomes  a  serious, 
and  ever  more  anxious  longing  for  moisture,  and 
passionate  craving  for  water;  and  he  alone  who 
so  understands  it,  fathoms  the  depth  of  the  long- 
ing after  God's  presence,  which  is  so  often  ex- 
pressed by  the  congregation  in  worship  of  song  or 
reading  of  the  Psalter,  without  real  appreciation 
of  the  panting  of  the  hart  after  water  brooks.  In 
like  manner,  who  knows  anything  now,  of  ''thirst- 
ing after  righteousness"  such  as  a  St.  Paul,  a 
Luther  or  a  Calvin  knew  it?  Even  when  the  cup 
filled  with  righteousness  is  placed  before  us,  much 
is  made  of  the  fact  that  more  than  one  stretches 
out  a  heavy  hand  for  it,  and  slightly  moistens  the 
lips  with  it.  But  thirsting  after  it,  calling  for  it. 
inability  to  longer  go  without  it,  a  weeping  after 
God,  where  do  we  see  it?  There  are  still  those 
who  thirst,  but  has  not  their  number  diminished? 
And  is  not  this  very  lack  of  real  thirsting  after 
God  and  after  righteousness  the  banal  danger  of 
our  times? 

This  is  occasioned  by  sin.  Sin  is  the  cause  that, 
unless  God  shows  mercy,  the  stimulus  of  this 
thirst  scarcely  operates.  At  times  it  requires 
special  grace  strongly  to  revive  it  again.  Such 
grace  operated  in  the  days  of  the  apostles,  and 
again  in  the  days  of  the  Reformation.  In  these 
times  this  thirst  operates,  0,  so  weakl}^;  and  O, 
among  so  few;  and  even  with  these,  so  faintly. 
Let  us  be  grateful  to  God,  if  at  any  time  in  our 
own  heart  we  perceive  something  of  this  real 
thirsting  after  the  living  God.  Thousands  upon 
thousands    live    and    die,    without    ever    having 

364 


known  anything  about  it.  How  great  then  is  the 
grace  that  has  been  shown  to  us! 

Prophets  and  Psalmists,  Jesus  and  apostles  lived 
in  a  mountainous  countr}'.  This  accounts  for  the 
frequent  references  in  Scripture  to  water  and 
thirst.  ''With  Thee  is  the  fountain  of  life."  "All 
my  springs  are  in  Thee."  ''Ho,  every  one  that 
thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  Waters."  ''Whosoever 
drinketh  of  the  water  that  I  shall  give  him  shall 
never  thirst."  Such  is  also  the  striking  saying,  re- 
garding the  valley  of  mulberries  in  Psalm  84. 
Mulberries  ripen  most  lusciously  in  hottest,  sun- 
niest spots.  Thus  the  valle^^  of  mulberries  is  the 
image  of  those  conditions  in  life,  when  everything 
in  us  languishes,  makes  us  apprehensive,  and 
chokes  us  with  grief.  When  the  heat  of  day  and 
the  heat  of  battle  make  us  pant  for  air  and 
breath,  when  we  can  do  nothing  more,  and  fear 
overtakes  us,  lest,  unless  God  helps  us,  we  shall 
faint  by  the  way. 

There  is  certainly  abundance  of  water  in  moun- 
tainous districts  which  flows  down  from  the  snow- 
fields  and  leaps  down  in  murmuring  brooks.  But 
it  is  unequally  divided.  At  one  time  it  threatens 
to  drag  one  down  in  its  wild  course;  while  again 
one  travels  a  barren  path  for  hours,  without  find- 
ing a  single  drop.  And  then  there  is  but  one 
relief,  which  is  a  tiny  stream  that  trickles  down 
the  mountain  side.  The  traveler  refreshes  liim- 
self  with  this,  and  as  he  goes  on  again,  his  burn- 
ing thirst  is  quenched.  Hence  in  the  valley  of 
mulberries  the  Psalmist  speaks  of  two  forms  of 
relief.  One  is  that  in  the  midst  of  scorching  heat 
one  comes  unexpectedly  to  such  a  little  stream. 
The    other    is    that    rainclouds    gather    overhead, 

365 


which  cast  broad  shadows,  and  so  afford  the 
traveler  protection  from  the  heat  of  the  sun. 
Thus  it  is  in  the  vallej'^  in  the  midst  of  the  moun- 
tains, and  metaphorically  for  God's  child  in  the 
midst  of  troubles.  When,  languishing  and  hard- 
pressed  he  can  do  nothing  more.  God  is  a  foun- 
tain to  him,  and  it  is  God  who  stretches  out 
broadly  the  rain-clouds  o^-er  him,  which  cover 
him  with  their  shade.  "When  they  pass  through 
the  valley  of  mulberrv^  trees,  they  make  him  a 
well;  yea,  the  raincloud  shall  cover  them  with 
blessings"  (Psalm  84:6.  Dutch  version.  vide 
R.  v.). 

Thus  to  worship,  in  the  living  God  and  in  his 
Christ,  the  Fountain  of  life,  has  become  our  com- 
forting manner  of  metaphorical  speech.  And  in 
order  to  grasp  the  rich  significance  of  this  meta- 
phor, one  should  see  for  himself  what,  in  moun- 
tain villages,  the  village  fountain  or  well  is.  In 
these  villages,  which  are  mostly  very  small,  there 
is  generally  only  one  well,  one  fountain,  in  the 
midst  of  the  village.  From  this  single  fountain 
ever}^  villager  drinks.  In  the  morning  and  at  sun- 
down every  person  comes  to  this  well,  to  fill  his 
pitcher  with  water,  and  carry  home  the  precious 
supply.  Horses  and  cattle  are  driven  thither  to 
drink  from  this  same  well.  Soiled  clothes  are 
carried  there,  in  order,  after  being  washed  clean, 
to  be  taken  back  home.  This  makes  the  village 
well  the  center  of  the  entire  village  life.  Every- 
one gathers  around  it.  At  that  well  people  meet 
one  another.  There  they  converse  together. 
There  the  common  life  is  lived.  And  thus  the 
whole  community  feels  that  this  single  well  is 
indeed  the  fountain  of  life,  for  the  entire  village. 


If  in  such  a  place  the  Psahn  is  sung,  that  God  is 
the  fountain  of  hfe,  everyone  understands  it,  the 
dehghtful  imagery  appeals  to  them  ail,  and  the 
pregnant  thought  enters  into  every  soul,  that 
without  God  we  would  perish  in  our  miseries  from 
thirst,  and  that  God  alone  is  the  center,  in  whom 
all  they  who  fear  his  Name  are  one,  and  together 
live  one  life.  ^ 

This  has  been  brought  closer  yet  in  Christ.  In 
C'lii'ist  the  Fountain  of  life  has  been  borne  into 
human  life  and  into  human  nature.  There  are 
no  two  fountains  of  life,  one  in  God  and  the  other 
in  Christ,  but  it  is  the  one  Fountain  of  Divine 
life,  which  springs  up  in  the  Father,  has  come  close 
to  us  in  the  Son,  and  by  the  Holy  Ghost  flows 
into  our  heart.  When  therefore  Christ  is  not 
surely  worshipped  as  God^  and  knees  are  not  bent 
before  him  as  God,  Christianity  is  gone.  This 
One  Christ  is  the  Fountain  of  life  for  the  entire, 
large  village,  if  we  may  so  express  it,  of  the 
Church  of  the  Lord  on  earth.  No  one  has  the 
water  of  life  in  his  own  home,  but  every  morning 
and  every  evening  every  child  of  God  must  go 
out  to  this  one  fountain,  which  is  in  Christ,  to  fill 
the  pitcher  of  his  soul  against  the  long  day  and 
the  long  night.  This  Fountain  never  disappoints. 
It  alw^ays  flows.  Water  of  life  is  there  to  be  found 
every  moment  with  fresh  supplies.  There  is  never 
a  shortage  of  it  for  anyone.  There  is  abundance  for 
all.  And  though  our  eye  does  not  see  it,  invisibly 
throughout  the  whole  world  every  true  believer's 
thirst  is  quenched  from  this  one  Fountain. 

Thereby  this  one  Fountain  of  life  in  Christ  is 
and  remains  the  center  for  the  life  of  all  people 
and   the   fellowship   for   all   hearts.     All   sorts   of 


distances  and  separations  in  society  and  churches 
hold  us  apart;  but  spiritually  and  unseen,  all  that 
are  born  of  God,  gather  together  day  by  day  at 
this  One  Fountain  of  life.  And  it  is  the  one 
Christ  who  from  his  abundance  quenches  the 
thirst  of  all.  And  from  being  really  one  in  Christ, 
and  from  this  real  life  from  this  one  Fountain, 
in  spite  of  differences,  beligvers  on  earth  derive 
each  day  anew,  the  power  of  unity  by  which  to 
realize  and  to  work  out  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
on  the  earth. 

But  it  must  be  an  act  of  faith.  It  says:  "They 
make  of  him  a  well."  It  does  not  go  of  itself. 
Thousands  upon  thousands,  alas,  come  and  go, 
without  ever  having  known,  admired,  and  quenched 
their  thirst  from,  this  Fountain.  The  act  of  faith 
alone  brings  one  into  fellowship  with  this  Foun- 
tain. Christ  wants  to  be  accepted.  By  faith  we 
must  make  him  our  Well.  It  is  with  this  also  as 
it  is  in  the  mountain  village.  Sometimes  there 
lives  a  rich  man  in  such  a  village.  He  has  dug  a 
well  in  his  own  yard  for  himself.  He  has  no  need, 
therefore,  mornings  and  evenings  to  go  to  the 
village  well.  But  the  others,  the  poor  people, 
have  no  such  well  of  their  own.  Hence  it  also 
applies  here:  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit,  for 
they  go  out  after  the  Fountain  of  life,  hence 
theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  God. 

69 

"BY  MY  GOD  I  LEAP  OVER  A  WALL." 

When  God  had  created  the  first  human  pair, 
no  dangers  threatened  them  in  Paradise.  Neither 
the  elements  of  nature,  nor  wild  animals,  nor 
climate,   nor  any   disease,   exposed   them   to   any 

368 


risks.  All  Paradise  was  with  them.  It  was  alto- 
gether pleasure  without  burden.  At  one  point 
only  they  were  in  danger.  That  was  their  spiritual 
estate.  In  this  they  were  vulnerable.  If  the  soul 
fell  down  they  were  gone ;  unless  God  saved  them, 
they  were  gone  forever. 

The  curse,  which  came  upon  the  earth  imme- 
diately after  they  had  fallen,  showed  at  once  that 
pandemonium  had  been  let  loose  against  them, 
and  that  the  whole  creation,  as  it  were,  had  entered 
into  conclave  to  destroy  them.  When  we  think 
how  absolutely  helpless  these  two  people  stood, 
almost  without  clothing  and  entirely  unfortified, 
in  the  face  of  these  unloosed  and  raving  forces  of 
world  and  nature,  we  feel  at  once  that  absolutely 
nothing  would  have  come  of  them,  and  that  they 
would  have  met  death  at  once,  if  only  in  maw 
of  lion  or  tiger,  had  not  from  the  side  of  God 
secret,  wondrous  grace  watched  over  them. 

How  human  life  saves  itself  now  need  not  be 
asked.  We  now  face  the  evil  and  destructive 
forces  of  nature  strongly  fortified  in  every  way, 
and  it  is  an  exception  when  a  flood  surprises,  a 
hurricane  destroys,  an  epidemic  works  havoc,  or 
wild  animals  carry  off  human  victims.  But  of  all 
the  means  of  resistance,  which  are  at  our  disposal, 
Adam  and  Eve  had  none,  and  they  were  but  with 
each  other.  This  makes  it  so  wonderful  that  our 
race  was  not  at  once  destroyed,  that  it  maintained 
itself,  that  it  increased  and  obtained  the  upper 
hand.  For  many  centuries  indeed  after  Paradise 
had  disappeared,  man  was  forced  to  wage  war  to 
the  death  with  the  wild  forces  of  destruction,  and 
to  this  day  the  names  of  a  Nimrod  and  of  a 
Hercules  are  alive  in  the  memory  of  nations,  as 

369 


of  heroes  who  knew  how  to  restrain  the  monster 
of  destruction.  Most  people  hve  upon  their  com- 
mon strength.  WeakHngs  hve  beneath  themselves. 
But  there  have  always  been  a  few,  who  have 
excelled  themselves.  And  later  generations  have 
honored  these  heroes  as  men,  who  have  achieved 
the  superhuman,  and  who  by  efforts  born  from 
almost  superhuman  inspiration  have  left  behind 
a  blessing  for  the  entire  human  race.  When  dif- 
ficulty faced  them  as  a  wall,  and  others  remained 
standing  before  it,  thej^  knew  how  to  get  over  it, 
and  make  a  way  for  those  who  followed  after. 

When  the  fight  with  the  monster  of  elements 
and  forces  of  nature  had  so  far  led  to  victory,  that 
with  much  caution  and  watchfulness,  normal 
human  life  became  possible  to  a  certain  extent. 
Satan  set  up  men  against  themselves,  and  an 
entirely  new  struggle  was  born,  even  of  man 
against  man.  The  evil  game  of  Cain  and  Abel. 
To  despoil  each  other  of  goods,  to  aim  at  one 
another's  life,  to  subject  as  slave  another  to  one- 
self. Now  pandemonium  no  longer  of  nature, 
but  of  human  evil  broke  loose  in  the  bosom  of 
humanity  itself.  The  misery  that  has  overtaken 
our  race  by  this  second  conflict  is  nameless.  First 
lust  of  robbery  and  murder  among  each  other  of 
man  against  man,  of  house  against  house.  And 
from  this,  war  of  nation  against  nation,  of  people 
against  people.  And  then,  again,  heroes  have 
arisen.  Men  who  excelled  others  and  themselves. 
A  Samson  and  David,  a  Prince  William  and 
Prince  Maurice.  Heroes,  who,  under  high  inspira- 
tion have  broken  resistance  and  have  delivered 
their  people.  Again  the  Wall,  against  which  every 
other  man  dashed  his  head,  but  over  which  they 
370 


leaped.  And  thus  came  about  deliverance  of  the 
people.  And  thus  the  names  of  these  heroes  are 
held  in  lasting  honor.  Not  by  our  race  as  a  whole, 
but  by  the  people  whose  deliverance  they  have 
wrought. 

Meanwhile  a  third  struggle  had  begun.  Not 
against  nature,  and  not  against  the  lust  of  robbery 
and  murder  of  a  fellowman,  but  the  conflict  be- 
tween the  kingdoms  of  the  world  and  the  king- 
dom of  heaven.  The  grace  of  God  descending, 
the  light  of  God  inshining,  in  order  to  bring  the 
children  of  men  to  the  inheritance  of  the  children 
of  God.  And  face  to  face  with  this,  the  power  of 
Satan,  sin  and  world,  to  destroy  the  cause  of  God 
in  the  earth.  And  again  there  have  been  heroes, 
who,  excelling  others  and  themselves,  have  stood 
their  ground  where  others  fainted.  Again  the  wall, 
which  inexorabl}^  foiled  the  many,  but  over  which 
enthusiastically  they  leaped.  A  Noah,  an  Abra- 
ham, an  Isaiah,  presently  the  martyrs  and  the 
Apostles,  and  after  them  a  Luther  and  a  Calvin. 
Again  this  same  high  inspiration.  The  wall  at 
last  thrown  down.  And  their  names  held  in  grate- 
ful remembrance,  not  by  a  single  people,  and  not 
by  the  whole  race,  but  by  the  generation  of  all 
the  children  of  God.  At  the  center  of  this  con- 
flict was  the  Lion  from  Judah's  tribe ;  the  supreme 
Leader  and  Finisher  of  the  faith,  the  Son  of  God 
and  the  Son  of  Man,  the  vanquisher  of  death  in 
his  glorious  resurrection.  Here  God  in  him,  he 
himself  God,  and  therefore  the  wall  of  sin  and 
death  forever  demolished  b}'  him,  and  the  way 
opened  to  everlasting  peace. 

Now  consider  our  struggle.  It  is  threefold. 
There  is  the  struggle  against  the  forces  of  nature 


in  sickness  and  in  threatening  destruction;  the 
struggle  for  existence  and  a  living.  The  struggle 
against  our  fellowmen,  when  they  do  us  wrong, 
slander  us  and  threaten  our  rights  and  liberties. 
And  thirdly  the  struggle  against  the  powers  of 
Satan,  sin  and  the  world,  in  behalf  of  God's 
glory,  the  cause  of  the  Lord,  and  the  soul's  sal- 
vation. From  the  combination  of  these  three 
powers  that  are  arrayed  against  us  spring  all  our 
woes  and  miseries,  all  our  sorrows  and  anxieties. 
Man  has  a  struggle  on  earth.  It  is  not  equally 
severe  in  every  case,  but  it  frequentlj^  appears 
that  with  some  individuals  it  is  a  struggle  against 
hellish  powers.  In  the  face  of  it  one  stands 
cowardly  and  powerless;  larger  numbers  struggle 
with  little  more  than  ordinary  effort;  but  there 
are  always  a  few  who  face  the  fight  with  the 
uncommon  courage  of  heroes  and  they  triumph 
by  faith.  Again  the  wall;  before  which  others 
falter  but  over  which  they  know  how  to  leap. 
They  do  it  with  their  God  and  in  his  Name,  and 
leave  a  blessing  behind  them  for  all  their  house 
and  times. 

What  is  the  secret  of  the  courage  and  power  that 
overcomes  in  the  case  of  these  heroes  and  hero- 
ines? Of  course  they  excelled  themselves,  that  is 
to  say,  they  knew  how  to  apply  a  power  of  will, 
which  reall}''  far  outreached  their  own  strength. 
This  high  power  comes  not  from  without,  but  from 
within;  from  their  fixed  heart,  from  their  soul 
taking  hold  of  itself,  from  the  spirit  that  is  in 
them.  By  comparison  one  perceives  something 
of  this  high  tension  in  the  man  who  runs  amuck, 
in  the  drunkard,  in  the  insane,  in  the  man  who  is 
carried  away  by  his  passion.     Everyone  runs  out 

372 


of  the  way  of  him  who  runs  amuck,  because  it  is 
kno^vll  that  no  one  can  face  him.  He  is  thrown 
by  a  shot  from  a  gun.  Three  officers  of  pohce 
are  unable  sometimes  to  overpower  a  subject  of 
delirium  tremens.  It  takes  the  straight-jacket  at 
times  to  render  insane  people  powerless,  which 
shows  what  gigantic  strength  they  are  able  to 
develop.  And  in  a  fit  of  passion  many  an  excited 
person  has  withstood  three  men  and  thrown  them. 
All  these  are  exhibits  of  human  misery,  but  in 
every  one  of  them,  there  is  gigantic  development 
of  strength,  because  a  something  within  was  able 
to  cause  such  tension  of  spirit,  and  through  their 
spirit  of  their  muscles,  as  passes  all  measure. 

But  even  as  such  muscular  tension  can  spring 
from  evil  excitement  and  overe?:ertion  of  the 
spirit,  so  by  an  inner  tension  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
the  soul  can  double  its  strength,  yea,  increase  it 
threefold  times.  Not  from  human  miserj'  this 
time,  but  from  sacred  exaltation  for  the  sake  of 
resisting  human  woe.  Then  there  is  the  wall 
again.  The  wall  of  injustice  perpetrated  against 
us,  of  trouble  that  overwhelms  us,  of  sorrow  that 
can  not  be  borne,  of  opposition  that  threatens 
to  undo  us,  of  sin  that  aims  at  our  descent  into 
hell.  A  wall  that  must  be  demolished,  or  broken 
through,  except  we  be  lost  Then  heroic  courage 
must  show  itself.  Not  that  of  wild,  ungovernable 
tension,  but  the  pure,  calm,  persistent  courage  of 
the  hero,  who  never  gives  in,  and  in  God's  strength 
overcomes.  Then  we  make  true  for  ourselves  what 
the  Psalmist  sang  (18:29):  "By  my  God  have  I 
leaped  over  a  wall."  And  "by  my  God"  does  not 
mean  to  say  by  the  help  of  God,  or  by  a  Divine 
miracle,  but  it  signifies:     With  God  in  mv  heart, 


through  this  highest  inspiration,  which  the  inwork- 
ing  of  the  Holy  Ghost  alone  can  bring  about  in 
mj^  soul,  I  know  that  it  is  God's  will,  and  that  it 
must  be  done  And  then  it  is,  if  you  like,  a 
miracle,  for  then  you  do  and  suffer  that  which 
far  supersedes  your  own  strength.  But  the  wall 
yields,  it  breaks,  and  j'ou  leap  over.  And  on  the 
other  side  of  it  you  kneel  down  to  ascribe  praise 
and  honor  to  him  who  has  enabled  j'ou  to  do  the 
superhuman. 

70 

''MINE  EYES  ARE  EVER  TOWARD 
THE  LORD." 
In  the  Te  Deum  the  church  sings:  "To  Thee 
all  angels  cry  aloud:  ...  To  Thee  Cherubim 
and  Seraphim:  continually  do  cry.  Holy,  Holy, 
Holy:  Lord  God  of  Sabaoth;  Heaven  and  earth 
are  full  of  the  Majesty  of  thy  glory."  Contin- 
ually, i.  e.  without  ceasing,  without  pauses,  always 
the  never-ending  ascent  of  the  hymn  of  praise 
from  angelic  choirs  before  God.  This  unbroken, 
continuous,  unchanging  and  fixed  permanency  of 
things  is  the  peculiar  characteristic  of  the  world 
before  God's  throne.  In  the  house  of  the  Father 
there  is  no  time,  but  eternity,  and  therefore  there 
is  no  breaking  down  of  life  in  a  night,  no  tran- 
sition from  morning  to  midday,  but  it  remains 
eternal  morning.  There  is  no  standing  still  and 
beginning  again.  No  stopping  and  resuming.  No 
intermezzo  of  rest  or  relaxation.  But  life,  ever 
springing  up  and  coming  back  to  itself,  without 
waste  of  power,  and  consequently  without  need  of 
change.  There  is  no  more  development,  hence 
transition  from  one  condition  into  another  is  im- 
thinkable.  No  break  or  disturbance  mars  the  ful- 
374 


ness  of  the  blessedness  which  is  eternal,  and 
therefore  the  word  "continually"  in  the  Te 
Deum  expresses  admirably  the  characteristic  of 
the  super-earthly,  of  what  is  devoted  to  God,  even 
the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

It  sounds  paradoxical  to  us,  when  the  apostle 
exhorts  us  to:  "Pray  without  ceasing,"  or  to: 
"Rejoice  evermore,"  or  to  hear  the  Psalmist  say: 
'I  have  set  the  Lord  always  before  me"  (Ps.l6:8), 
"Nevertheless  I  am  continually  with  thee"  (Ps.  73: 
23),  "Mine  eyes  are  ever  toward  the  Lord"  (Ps.2o:^ 
15),  but  in  connection  with  this  unbroken  note  of 
the  higher  life,  he  who  is  no  stranger  to  the  secret 
walk  with  God,  feels  the  sacred  stress  of  this 
"continually,"  "without  ceasing,"  and  "at  all 
times."  For  "continually"  sometimes  means: 
"Now  and  then."  A  nurse  in  the  hospital  contin- 
ually makes  the  round  of  her  patients.  But  such 
is  not  the  meaning  here.  When  the  Psalmist 
sings:  "Mine  eyes  are  ever  toward  the  Lord,"  the 
word  in  Hebrew  does  not  mean  "now  and  then," 
but  "always  and  without  ceasing."  It  means  to 
say :  "The  eyes  of  my  soul  are  never  turned  away 
from  God,  but  are  always  looking  toward  my 
Father  who  is  in  heaven."  It  means  that  in  our 
secret  walk  with  God  we  do  not  bring  God  down 
into  time,  but  allow  God  to  lift  us  up  into  the 
eternal.  Secret  fellowship  with  God  is  the  fore- 
taste of  the  heavenly.  It  is  not  a  musical  instru- 
ment from  which  tones  are  elicited  from  time  to 
time,  and  meanwhile  remains  closed,  but  a  self- 
playing  organ  that  but  waits  for  our  ears  to  hear 
its  heavenly  melodies. 

Do  not  say,  that  prayer  without  ceasing,  always 
to  be  blessed  in  God,  alwaj^s  to  be  looking  unto 


the  Lord,  to  set  him  always  before  you,  and  to 
fix  your  eyes  ever  upon  him,  is  simply  impossible, 
because  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  human  life, 
surroundings,  business  cares  and  daily  duties  for- 
bid it.  For  in  this  sense  both  David  and  Paul 
knew  well  that  life  is  not  ceaseless  devotion  and 
the  world  no  monastery  cell.  But  it  was  not 
meant  this  way  by  either  Psalmist  or  Apostle. 
There  are  moments  when  on  our  knees  we  are 
alone  with  God  and  pray.  There  are  moments 
when  we  retire  to  some  secluded  spot,  in  order  to 
lose  ourselves  in  thinking  on  God.  There  are 
moments  when  we  sh^ke  ourselves  free  from  every 
care  and  consideration  of  this  life,  in  order  to 
engage  ourselves  solely  and  alone  with  the  things 
of  the  hidden  life.  It  must  be  confessed  that  for 
first  beginners  this  is  about  the  only  form  in  which 
they  can  imagine  prayer,  fellowship  with  God,  and 
looking  unto  him,  to  be  possible.  Life  to  them  is 
still  divided  into  two  parts.  A  life  without  God, 
broadly  extending  itself  in  the  world,  and  along- 
side of  this  and  apart  from  the  world  an  exceed- 
ingly limited  life  with  God.  They  have  grasped 
something  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  but  the  life 
of  the  world  is  still  the  real  life  to  them,  and  as 
an  oasis  in  the  wilderness  of  this  worldly  life, 
there  are  moments  in  which  they  devote  them- 
selves to  God.  And  as  long  as  such  is  the  case, 
of  course,  prayer  without  ceasing,  rejoicing  ever- 
more, and  continual  abiding  with  God,  is  impos- 
sible. For  then  there  is  no  indwelling  in  God, 
but  dwelling  in  the  world,  in  order  to  go  out  from 
it  now  and  then  for  a  few  moments  of  interview 
with  God.  Then  prayer  is  brief.  Thought  of 
God  is  momentary.    Presently  it  ends.    Eyes  open 

376 


again  to  the  world,  in  the  life  of  which  the  rest 
of  the  day  is  spent.  Such  is  the  existence  of 
him  who  out  of  every  twenty-four  hours  of  the 
day  spends  eight  in  bed,  more  than  fifteen  in  the 
world,  and  altogether  scarcely  half  an  hour  with 
God.  He  has  often  tried  to  retire  half  an  hour 
for  prayer  and  sacred  meditation,  but  life  is  too 
busy,  it  rushes  on  relentlessly,  and  even  in 
moments  of  seclusion  thoughts  wander  too  far 
afield  for  serious  concentration  on  holy  things. 
And  under  the  spell  of  disappointment  the  effort 
is  all  too  readily  abandoned. 

Continuous,  unbroken,  unceasing  fellowship  with 
God  does  not  depend  upon  thought,  and  can  not 
be  reached  by  the  will,  but  springs  of  itself  from 
the  inner  motion  of  the  heart.  If  the  body  is  the 
temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  as  we  believe,  so  that 
God  dwells  in  us,  God's  nearness  to  us  and  our 
nearness  to  him  takes  place  of  itself,  whether  we 
think  of  it  or  not.  God,  the  Holy  Ghost,  does 
not  come  into  the  heart,  presently  to  leave  it 
again.  There  is  indwelling.  There  is  a  coming 
once,  in  order  to  abide  with  us  forever.  And  even 
when  we  do  not  pray,  or  know  not  how  to  pray 
as  we  ought,  God,  the  Holy  Ghost,  prays  in  us 
with  unutterable  groanings.  The  mother  keeps 
watch  by  the  bedside  of  her  new-born  babe,  even 
though  the  babe  has  no  sense  of  it  whatever. 
Hence  the  question  only  is,  whether  the  inner 
disposition  of  the  heart  attains  gradually  that 
sanctification,  that  opening  up  to  Divine  things, 
whereby  we  begin  to  feel  and  to  perceive  what 
goes  on  in  the  secret  chambers  of  our  heart. 

At  first  we  live  outside  of  the  heart,  and  isolated, 
it  floats  as  a  drop  of  oil  on  the  waters  of  life. 

377 


But  gradually  there  comes  a  disclosing-  We  begin 
to  live  a  little  more  with  and  in  our  own  heart. 
And  when  we  enter  our  heart  sufficiently  deeply, 
we  find  there  God,  the  Holy  Ghost,  who  has  com- 
passion on  us.  This  of  itself  brings  us  to  a  life 
of  two  phases;  one  outward  and  the  other  inward. 
But  though  at  first  these  two  are  strangers  to 
one  another,  they  gradually  approach  each  other, 
mingle  together  and  permeate  each  other,  until 
the  point  is  reached  when  the  inner  life  lends  its 
glow  to  all  the  outward  existence,  and  when, 
not  the  clearly  conscious,  but  the  fellowship  which 
is  apprehended  with  the  tentacles  of  the  soul, 
progresses    more    and    more   unceasingly. 

This  is  at  first  pure,  sacred  mysticism,  and 
nothing  more.  But  it  does  not  keep  itself  at  this. 
Unconsciously,  the  eye  of  the  soul  begins  slowly 
to  discover  the  clear  reality  that  God  dwells  not 
only  in  the  heart,  but  that  in  the  outward  life  on 
e\'ery  side  he  is  the  omnipresent,  the  all-directing, 
Almighty  and  the  all-provident  Worker.  And  so 
we  begin  to  have  an  eye  for  God,  who  in  all  things, 
and  b}^  and  through  all  things,  presses  upon  us. 
The  note  which  arises  from  the  depths  of  the 
heart  is  echoed  by  all  of  the  life  in  which  we  ful- 
fil our  calling.  That  which  formerly  drew  us  awaj' 
from  God  in  that  life  and  threw  us  back  upon 
ourselves,  now  begins  with  wondrous  allurements 
to  draw  us  more  and  more  closely  to  God.  And 
not  by  reasoning,  not  with  outspoken  thought,  but 
in  the  immediate  sensation  of  the  life  of  the  soul 
itself  God  begins  both  inwardly  and  outwardly 
to  open  the  eye  to  his  Majesty.  It  is  true,  sin 
works  interruptions  again.  But  sin  never  rouses 
hatred  against  itself  more  strongly  in  the  heart 
378 


than  when  again  and  again  it  throws  distractive 
discord  into  the  harmonj'  of  the  Psalm  of  hfe. 
And  to  break  with  sin,  and  to  lose  self  again  in 
worship  and  blessed  fellowship  becomes  of  itself 
the  rising  impulse  of  the  heart. 

71 

"THY  OVERSIGHT  HATH  PRESERVED 
MY  SPIRIT." 

The  spirit  within  us  is  that  by  which  we  live. 
It  is  at  the  same  time  our  breath  of  life  and  our 
spiritual  inner  self.  The  spirit  is  what  we  are 
above  and  besides  the  body.  It  is  that  whieh  has 
been  breathed  into  the  ''unformed  lump"  to  make 
us  man,  to  make  us  live  as  man,  to  make  us  a 
person  among  the  children  of  men.  "To  yield  up 
the  spirit,"  as  a  rule,  is  nothing  but  to  die,  to 
breathe  out  the  breath  of  life.  When  on  the  other 
hand  the  apostle  says,  that  no  man  knoweth  the 
things  of  a  man,  save  the  spirit  of  man  which  is 
in  him  (I  Cor.  2:11),  the  word  "spirit"  indicates 
our  conscious  ego,  our  spiritual^  existence  as  man, 
our  inner  personality. 

Although  this  seems  to  be  something  entirely 
different,  in  Holy  Writ  the  breath  of  life,  the 
spirit  which  we  yield  up  in  d3'ing  is  never  sep- 
arated from  our  spiritual  existence.  Both  our  life 
and  our  person  are  expressed  by  "spirit,"  and  both 
are  called  "our  soul."  When  the  Psalmist  cried: 
"0  Lord,  deliver  my  soul,"  or  rejoices:  "Thou, 
Lord,  hast  delivered  my  soul  from  death,"  it  refers 
in  Psalm  116  to  the  saving  of  life,  to  deliverance 
from  danger,  and  not  to  spiritual  redemption. 
But  our  inner  spiritual  existence  is  also  called  our 
soul.    "As  the  hart  panteth  after  the  water  brooks, 

379 


so  panteth  my  soul  after  thee,  0  God.  My  soul 
thirsteth  for  God,  for  the  living  God"  (Psalm  42). 
In  verse  4:  "I  remember  these  things  and  pour 
out  my  soul  in  me."  Again:  "Why  art  thou  cast 
down,  O  my  soul,  and  why  art  thou  disquieted 
within  me."  The  Scripture  makes  no  distinction 
between  our  life  and  our  spirit.  In  God's  word 
our  life  and  our  spiritual  existence  are  one.  In 
Paradise  God  forms  man  from  the  dust  of  the 
earth.  But  the  material  form  is  not  man.  He 
only  comes  into  being  when  God  breathes  life 
into  it.  Then  there  is  life,  then  there  is  human 
life;  and  there  is  no  human  life  except  as  utter- 
ance of  the  life  of  a  soul;  and  there  is  no  life  of 
a  soul  apart  from  an  ego,  a  person,  a  spiritual 
being  that  hides  in  our  heart.  Any  man  can 
sully  this  spiritual  existence  in  himself,  can  sin  it 
away,  corrupt  it,  but  he  can  not  shake  it  off,  nor 
lay  it  aside.  Death  does  not  annihilate  it.  It 
abides,  it  continues  to  exist,  even  with  the  lost  in 
the  place  of  perdition. 

Man's  spirit  is  his  real  self.  All  the  rest  is  but 
the  house,  the  tabernacle,  as  the  Apostle  calls  it. 
The  real,  essential  man  is  the  spirit  that  dwells 
in  this  tabernacle.  The  spirit  in  us  is  our  ego, 
our  person,  including  our  disposition,  character, 
consciousness,  feeling,  will  powers,  gifts  and  tal- 
ents; in  brief,  everything  that  forms  our  inner 
existence,  constituting  a  particular  being,  bearing 
a  particular  stamp,  and  expressing  itself  in  a  par- 
ticular character.  In  Scripture  it  is  always  the 
same  antithesis.  In  Paradise  it  is  the  form  which 
is  made  of  dust  and  the  spirit  which  God  breathes 
into  it.  In  Psalm  139  it  is  the  unformed  sub- 
stance which,  as  a  piece  of  embroidery,  is  curi- 

S80 


ously  wrought,  and  in  addition  to  this  the  ego 
that  was  made  in  secret.  And  in  Job  10:9-12: 
''Thou  hast  made  me  as  the  clay;  Thou  hast 
poured  me  out  as  milk,  and  curdled  me  Uke 
cheese.  Thou  hast  clothed  me  with  skin  and 
flesh,  and  hast  fenced  (crocheted)  me  with  bones 
and  sinews,"  and  over  and  above  all  this  "Thou 
hast  given  me  life,"  i.  e.  my  spirit.  What  is 
visible,  and  tangible,  comes  first,  and  into  this 
enters  the  invisible,  that  which  exists  in  the  secret 
places  of  the  heart,  and  that  is  our  spirit.  And 
God  does  not  abandon  the  spirit  within  us  to 
itself.  It  remains  in  his  hand.  It  is  ever  under 
his  care.  He  watches  over  it.  He  has  the  super- 
vision of  it.  And  regarding  this  Job  declares: 
"Thy  oversight  hath  preserved  my  spirit"  (Job 
10:12  Dutch  version.    See  Marg.  read.  R.  V.) 

At  first  we  know  nothing  of  this  Divine  over- 
sight of  our  spirit.  The  infant  in  the  cradle  is 
utterly  unconscious  of  mother's  care.  The  sick 
man  in  his  slumber  is  not  aware  of  the  nurse  at 
his  bedside.  Only  when  in  later  years  the  eye  of 
the  soul  is  opened  to  the  supervision  and  faith- 
fulness of  God,  we  become  slowly  conscious  of 
this  Divine  oversight  of  our  spirit.  Provisionally 
it  is  the  discovery  of  the  heavenly  Father's  super- 
vision with  respect  to  our  outward  life,  and  then 
only  on  special  occasions,  when,  for  instance,  we 
have  been  delivered  from  sudden  danger.  We  are 
under  the  impression  that  life  goes  on  of  itself, 
and  that  only  in  particular  instances  God  con- 
siders and  looks  after  us.  For  many  years  prayer 
and  thanksgiving  assume  a  warmer  and  more  per- 
sonal character  only  in  moments  of  special  need 
or  anxiety.    The  larger  part  of  life  is  spent  before 

381 


the  calm  and  blessed  feeling  of  assurance  takes 
hold  of  us,  that  bj^  day  and  by  night,  in  ordinary 
and  in  extraordinary  circumstances  we  are  watched 
over,  cared  for  and  looked  after  by  God. 

We  also  come  to  discover  that  the  inner  life  of 
our  soul  is  in  God's  hand.  That  he  has  charge  of 
it  That  his  care  is  constantly  at  work  in  it. 
That  he  has  continual  oversight  of  it.  This  dis- 
covery arises  first  in  the  conscience.  He  who  has 
oversight  not  only  takes  care  but  also  looks  out, 
examines,  estimates  values,  exercises  authority  and 
power,  praises  or  blames.  This  aspect  of  God's 
oversight  of  us  is  the  first  that  comes  to  our 
notice.  As  a  rule  this  happens  after  a  wrong  has 
been  done,  when  we  are  painfully  conscious  of 
Divine  displeasure.  Then  we  learn  that  God  has 
the  oversight  of  us,  that  he  regards  the  least  sig- 
nificant of  our  acts,  and  that  in  everything  he 
exercises  care  over  our  entire  person,  over  what 
we  do  and  leave  undone,  over  our  inclinations  and 
desires,  over  our  thoughts  and  words,  yea,  even 
over  the  impulses  of  our  imagination. 

And  when  it  has  come  to  this,  we  know  two 
things.  First,  that  God  has  the  supervision  of 
our  lot  in  life,  of  our  adversity  and  prosperity,  of 
everything  that  happens  to  us,  and  that  there  is 
a  line  drawn  through  our  life  which  binds  our 
present  to  our  past,  and  leads  the  present  into  the 
future.  We  then  know  that  we  are  creatures  of 
God,  that  we  are  his  possession,  his  property; 
that  he  disposes  of  us  and  not  we  of  ourselves; 
that  the  plan  of  our  life  has  been  drawn  by  God; 
and  that  the  course  of  life  is  in  full  accord  with 
it.  But,  secondly,  we  also  know,  that  in  our  inner 
life  we  are  not  our  own  lord  and  master,  but  that 

382 


our  moral  existence  as  man  is  constantly  under 
the  supervision  of  this  selfsame  God,  who  judges 
us  at  the  bar  of  our  own  conscience,  as  often  as 
we  go  contrary  to  his  holy  will. 

And  from  these  two  there  arises  graduallj^  the 
still  higher  sense,  that  "God's  oversight  of  our 
spirit"  bears  not  only  an  admonishing  and  a 
judicial  character,  but  also  that  of  faithful  care, 
which  we  learn  to  adore  in  our  lot  in  life.  The 
soul  perceives  that  God  not  merely  spies  our  inner 
existence  in  order  to  estimate  it,  but  that  he  is 
continually  active  in  it,  that  he  constantly  culti- 
vates it,  and  ceaselessly  devotes  his  care  to  it. 
The  apostle  delineates  this  in  the  image  of  an 
husbandman  who  guards  the  crops  that  grow  in 
the  field  which  he  has  cultivated  and  sown.  Thus 
our  soul  is  as  a  garden  of  the  Lord,  in  which  his 
plantings  germinate  and  bloom,  which  he  fosters 
by  his  sun,  which  he  waters  with  his  dew,  which 
he  weeds  and  protects,  and  in  which  he  causes 
fruit  to  ripen. 

We  train  the  soul  ourselves.  Good  and  evil 
influences  affect  us  equally  from  the  world  of  men 
and  spirits.  But  the  constant  activity  of  God  in 
the  soul  bears  a  far  more  significant  character. 
Though  we  do  not  observe  it,  God  always  has 
access  to  our  hearts.  Even  in  our  sleep  he  comes 
\o  us,  in  order  to  operate  upon  our  inner  life. 
He  prepares  in  us  the  powers  which  we  presently 
shall  need.  He  disposes  and  orders  in  us  the 
powers  which  must  be  applied  to  a  given  end. 
He  is  even  now  busy  in  preparing  in  us  what  is 
to  show  itself  in  us  ten  or  more  years  after.  In 
the  inner  hfe  of  the  soul  nothing  escapes  him; 
sensations,  tendencies,  rising  feelings,   everything 


is  under  his  holy  supervision.  He  revives  in  us 
what  is  ready  to  languish.  He  bends  straight  in 
us  what  threatens  to  become  crooked.  And  as  a 
mother  cares  for  her  babe  in  outward  things,  so 
does  our  faithful  Father  provide  against  every 
difficulty  and  every  need  of  our  soul. 

This  is  a  work  of  God,  which  began  in  his 
council,  which  was  reckoned  with  in  our  ancestors, 
which  from  the  cradle  has  been  accomplished  in 
us,  and  never  ceases  all  the  days  and  nights  of 
our  lives.  A  work  of  God  upon  the  soul,  which 
goes  on  when  we  are  alone,  and  when  we  mingle 
with  the  multitudes;  which  does  not  desist  wlule 
we  are  at  work,  and  which,  with  a  firm  hand,  is 
directed  to  what  God  has  determined  by  himself 
to  make  of  us  now  and  forever.  Our  own  plan 
regarding  our  development  and  the  formation  of 
character,  as  a  rule  does  not  extend  further  than 
this  brief  life,  but  *' God's  supervision  of  our  spirit" 
extends  to  all  eternities,  while  it  prepares  in  us 
here,  what  will  only  unfold  itself  on  the  other 
side  of  the  grave. 

This  "oversight  of  God"  is  both  guardianship 
and  training.  It  is  the  work  of  the  Supreme  Artist, 
in  preparing  from  the  life  of  your  soul  an  orna- 
ment for  the  house  of  the  Father  above.  This 
activity  of  God  upon  and  in  the  soul,  this  Divine 
oversight  of  our  spirit  can  be  resisted,  whereby 
the  Holy  Spirit  is  grieved.  But  as  workers  to- 
gether with  God  we  can  do  our  part.  This  is  the 
aim  of  the  sacred  impulse  of  childship,  ever  seek- 
ing strength  in  the  humble  prayer  of  Psalm  138: 
"Forsake  not  what  Thy  hand  began, 

O,  Source  of  Life, 

Grant  Thy  assistance." 

S84 


72 

'EVERY  ONE  WHICH  SEETH  THE  SON." 

The  one  thing  of  all  others  among  men  is  to 
believe  on  Christ.  The  Scripture  announces  in 
every  way  that  God  has  given  his  only  begotten 
son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  him  should  not 
perish,  but  have  everlasting  life.  To  this  is  added 
with  equal  emphasis  that  he  that  believeth  not 
the  Son  shall  not  see  life;  but  the  wrath  of  God 
abideth  on  him  (St.  John  3:16,  36).  When  asked 
what  the  great  work  is,  which  we  have  to  do  in 
obedience  to  God,  Jesus  answered:  The  work  of 
God  which  ye  have  to  do,  is,  to  believe  in  me. 
Faith  in  Christ  shall  once  bring  abcut  the  division 
in  eternity,  and  this  same  faith  leads  to  decision 
here  on  earth.  Not  a  certain  general  religiousness, 
not  personal  pious  inclination,  and  not  a  general 
faith  on  God,  but  solely  and  very  definitely  faith 
in  Jesus,  in  its  presence  or  absence,  determines 
eternal  destiny,  and  decides  the  question  already 
here  below  whether  one  belongs  to  the  flock  of  the 
Good  Shepherd,  or  whether  he  stands  outside  of  it. 

The  whole  Gospel  hinges  on  this  faith.  The 
entire  Revelation  of  God — read  it  in  Heb.  XI — 
from  the  days  of  Paradise  was  directed  to  this 
faith  in  Christ.  The  sola  fide,  through  faith  alone, 
is  still  in  another  sense  than  that  in  which  Luther 
used  it,  the  fundamental  thesis  of  all  higher 
human  life.  There  are  also  all  sorts  of  other 
marks  and  signs  and  utterances  of  soul  and  rela- 
tionships among  men  which  indicate  another 
tendency  in  our  life,  or  which  can  impart  another 
tendency  to  it.  And  all  this  can  have  worth  and 
significance,    but    only    in    a    small    circle,    for    a 

385 


limited  time  and  in  a  given  measure.  Sympathy, 
inclination,  preference,  affection,  all  blossom  with 
silvery  blossoms,  but  never  dominate  all  of  life, 
do  not  change  the  ground  of  existence,  and  have 
no  all-deciding  and  ever-abiding  results.  Faith  in 
the  Son  of  God  stands  far  above  eveiything  else 
that  flourishes  in  the  world  and  acts  as  a  uniting 
and  inspiring  factor  among  men.  All  other  things 
are  in  part,  lack  the  deep  fulness  of  life,  and  are 
as  the  grass  that  flourishes,  and  when  the  wind 
passes  over  it,  withers.  What  alone  remains  as 
foundation  of  the  inner  life,  what  gives  the  tone 
to  life  and  forever  guarantees  life  in  endless  un- 
folding, is  faith  in  the  only  begotten  Son  of  the 
Father,  or  as  it  was  said  in  the  prison  at  Philippi: 
"Believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  thou  shalt 
be  saved."  This  is  the  all-embracing,  all-permeat- 
ing, and  in  itself  complete  and  perfect  happiness, 
that   endures  unto  the  eternal   morning. 

We  need  not  consider  here  what  this  faith  is, 
how  it  operates,  wherein  it  consists.  It  is  a 
mystery  which  the  church  of  Christ  has  tried 
again  and  again  to  express  in  words,  but  which 
she  has  never  been  able  to  state  in  all  its  fulness 
and  in  so  many  words,  so  as  to  exclude  all  mis- 
understanding. When  the  church  outlined  faith 
too  distinctly  it  led  to  cold  and  barren  intellec- 
tualism  without  spiritual  fervor;  when  she  entered 
more  deeply  into  the  mystery  of  the  hidden  life 
of  the  heart,  she  frequently  crowned  a  scorching 
mysticism,  which  presently  volatilized  in  excite- 
ment. But  the  sum  and  substance  of  it  always 
was,  that  a  lost  world,  an  undone  human  heart, 
cried  out  for  deliverance,  and  that  age  upon  age 
all  human  ingenuity,  heroism,  and  tender  compas- 


sion  had  tried  to  provide  it,  but  in  vain,  until  at 
length  God  brought  it.  He  imparted  it,  not  in 
the  form  of  a  gift,  but  in  a  most  holy  person; 
who  was  not  one  taken  from  among  us^  but  one 
who  came  down  from  heaven ;  and  not  as  an  angel, 
which  as  God's  servant  and  our  helper  stands  out- 
side of  both  Divine  and  human  natures,  but  as 
one  sent  from  heaven  and  come  down  to  us  as  the 
only  begotten  Son  of  the  Father,  who  having 
entered  into  our  nature,  brought  God  himself  to 
our  view.  "Philip,  he  that  hath  seen  me  hath 
seen  the  Father;  and  how  sayeth  thou  then,  show 
us  the  Father"   (John  14:9) 

And  therefore  faith  in  Christ  can  never  be  any- 
thing else  than  the  highest,  the  one  and  only 
thing.  When  God  gives  himself  in  Christ  to  the 
world,  and  enters  so  fully  into  our  human  life 
that  this  Son  takes  our  nature  upon  himself,  that 
the  Word  becomes  flesh,  which  angels  hail  as 
Immanuel,  God  with  us,  the  absolute  and  in  itself 
complete  revelation  of  Divine  compassion  has 
come  to  us.  Hence  it  can  neither  go  higher  nor 
farther,  since  the  end  of  what  is  eternally  com- 
plete in  itself  has  been  reached.  Nothing  there- 
fore transcends  faith  in  Christ.  Nothing  can  be 
placed  by  the  side  of  it.  There  is  nothing  with 
which  it  can  be  compared.  It  transcends  all 
human  thought.  It  can  neither  be  substituted  nor 
excelled  by  anything  else.  Faith  in  Christ  brings 
salvation,  or  there  is  none;  without  Christ  there 
is  no  salvation  for  the  lost  world  or  for  the  heart 
that  in  itself  is  lost. 

For  the  rising  of  this  star  of  faith  in  the  life  of 
the  soul  Jesus  demands  an  act  on  the  part  of  the 
soul.     Not,  as  is  self-evident,  that  any  action  of 

S87 


the  soul  can  ever  create  faith  in  Christ,  produce 
it,  imprint  and  implant  it.  The  seed  of  faith  is  a 
Divine  sowing.  Faith  in  Jesus  is  as  much  a  gift 
as  Christ  himself  is.  Faith  is  a  work  of  Divine 
compassion,  wrought  by  the  Holy  Ghost.  But  all 
faith  in  Christ  has  this  peculiarity  and  necessity, 
that  it  must  be  taken  up  into  the  consciousness, 
and  that  therefore  it  enters  into  the  consciousness 
with  irresistible  power.  Faith  enters  in  as  a  sen- 
sation, as  an  impelling  force,  as  an  inspiring  prin- 
ciple, and  as  a  power  which  governs  and  changes 
all  of  life.  And  in  behalf  of  our  consciousness 
faith  is  bound  to  obtain  a  content,  a  form,  an 
appearance.  It  brings  also  emotions  with  it,  even 
unspeakable  emotions  of  uncommon  power.  But 
above  and  outside  of  all  this,  it  also  has  an  intel- 
lectual content,  which  needs  to  be  understood,  a 
content  which  fills  itself  with  what  we  know  from 
the  sacred  Revelation,  of  the  person  of  the  Son 
of  God,  of  his  life  on  earth,  of  his  works,  of  his 
words,  of  his  sitting  at  God's  right  hand,  and  of 
his  continued  activity  from  heaven.  This  is  what 
is  learned  by  heart;  there  is  memory  work  in  it; 
memory  of  names,  facts,  conversations;  memory 
of  words  and  deeds,  mortal  sufferings  and  glorious 
resurrection.  Only  memory  does  not  cherish  faith. 
Ideas  and  faith  are  not  essentially  one.  Learning 
ignites  no  glow  in  faith.  And  therefore  Jesus 
declares,  that  in  order  to  become  ever  clearer, 
stronger  and  more  inspiring,  the  one  thing  faith 
needs  is,  that  you  see  the  Son  of  God.  ''Every- 
one which  seeth  the  son,  and  believeth  on  him, 
has  everlasting  life"  (St.  John  6:40).  This  seeing 
of  the  Son  of  God  alone  brings  the  rapture  of 

388 


soul,  which  maintains  the  glow  of  faith  and  makes 
it  to  burn  brightly. 

The  entire  content  of  the  memory  must  be 
reduced  from  the  memory  to  the  unity  of  the 
image  of  the  Son  of  God.  It  must  all  be  united 
and  brought  together,  in  order  to  portray  this 
image  in  sacred  purity  to  the  eye  of  the  soul. 
And  where  this  image  makes  itself  perfect  in  you, 
all  inner  pressure  and  sensation  and  all  holy 
emotion  must  fuse  with  this  image  in  you,  that 
you  may  enjoy  it.  This  living  image  of  the  Son 
of  God  must  impress  you,  and  attract  you,  must 
not  let  go  of  you,  must  engage  you  and  bring  you 
into  sacred  ecstacy.  Not  as  a  knowing  after  the 
flesh.  It  must  be  a  spiritual  vision,  but  always 
such  that  the  name  of  Jesus  passes  over  into  the 
person  of  the  Christ,  and  that  from  the  person  of 
Christ  the  inner  Divine  being  takes  hold  of  you 
and  with  magnetic  power  attracts  you.  No  glori- 
fication of  Jesus,  as  in  the  days  of  Feith  and  Van 
Alphen,  which  brings  the  words  to  the  lips:  "Oh, 
were  Jesus  still  on  earth,  at  once  I'd  hasten  to 
him."  That  would  be  the  descent  from  the  high 
to  the  low.  The  spiritual  vision,  the  soul's  seeing 
of  the  Son  of  God  stands  incomparably  higher 
than  what  the  disciples  have  ever  seen  and  handled 
in  Jesus'  person  on  earth. 

The  Apostle  knows  the  Savior  far  better  than 
the  disciple  has  ever  kno^vn  him.  The  Ascension 
has  not  impoverished,  but  enriched  us.  And  the 
seeing  of  the  only  begotten  Son  of  the  Father 
which  nurses  the  faith,  feeds  and  every  time  re- 
freshes it  again,  is  such  conscious  fellowship  of 
soul  with  the  Lord  of  glory,  that  in  and  through 
him,  the  Eternal  Being  himself  is  reached,  and, 


spiritually  seeing  the  son  with  the  eyes  of  the 
soul,  the  child  of  God  knows  himself  to  be  one 
with  the  Father,  the  Son  and  the  Holy  Ghost. 
Hear  the  petition  in  the  high  priestly  prayer: 
"Holy  Father,  I  pray  thee,  that  they  all  may  be 
one,  as  thou,  Father,  art  in  me,  and  I  in  thee,  that 
they  also  may  be  one  in  us;  that  the  world  may 
believe  that  thou  hast  sent  me"  (St.  John  17:21). 

7S 

"MY  FOOT  STANDETH  IN  AN  EVEN 
PLACE." 

"My  foot  standeth  in  an  even  place,"  has  a 
threefold  significance.  It  is  the  expression  of 
satisfaction  on  the  part  of  the  Sunday-child.  It 
is  the  cry  of  relief  on  the  part  of  him  who  has 
struggled  hard  and  bitterly  to  succeed.  It  is  the 
calm  utterance  of  higher  peace  on  the  part  of  him 
who  believes. 

The  imagery  of  the  Psalmist  is  clear.  A  road 
can  bear  a  twofold  character.  It  can  be  smooth 
and  even  as  a  skittle  ground,  or  macadam  streets 
in  cities  and  towns;  or  it  can  be  like  what  we  find 
in  mountainous  districts,  where  steep  descents  and 
ascents  are  common  and  the  unevenness  of  the 
path  brings  weariness.  With  us,  a  stretch  of  sandy 
or  muddy  road  may  retard  travel,  but  in  the  main 
our  roads  are  even  from  north  to  south,  so  that 
no  image  could  be  derived  from  them  for  the 
pathway  of  our  life.  A  way  may  seem  long  to  us, 
it  may  be  lonely,  or  it  may  repel  us  by  its  filthi- 
ness,  but  all  this  does  not  offer  the  antithesis 
which  level  road  and  mountain  path  present. 

The  Scripture,  on  the  other  hand,  originated  in 

S90 


a  mountainous  country.  The  Psalmists  have  dwelt 
and  wandered  in  the  mountains.  Of  itself,  there- 
fore, their  fertile  minds  would  borrow  images 
from  life  in  the  mountains  by  which  to  express 
the  antitheses  of  life.  And  so  the  easy  walk,  with 
a  light  step,  on  a  smooth,  straight  and  even  road 
suggested  of  itself  to  them  the  image  of  a  life  of 
which  we  would  say,  in  the  language  of  a  sailor, 
that  ''everything  went  before  the  wind."  On  the 
other  hand,  the  exertion,  which  makes  even  breath- 
ing difficult  on  the  way  where  there  is  for  hours 
together  a  steep,  downward  grade  and  then  for 
hours  again  the  grade  is  equally  steep  upward, 
presented  quite  as  naturally  the  image  of  a  trav- 
eler of  whom  the  Dutch  people  would  say  again 
in  terms  of  the  sea:  "He  can  scarcely  keep 
his  head  above  water."  Hence  in  the  expression: 
"My  foot  standeth  in  an  even  place,"  the  self- 
sufficiency  can  assert  itself  of  the  man  who  has 
succeeded  in  everything  he  undertook,  who  has 
never  known  real  adversity,  and  who,  weaned  from 
carking  care,  has  never  seen  anything  but  sunshine 
on  the  pathway  of  his  life. 

These  words,  however,  imply  much  more  when 
they  become  the  confession  of  a  man  who,  dis- 
appointed every  time,  and  foiled,  saw  all  his  efforts 
end  in  failure,  but  who  kept  on  trying,  would  not 
give  up,  now  fell  and  again  climbed  the  steep 
mountain  side,  until  at  length  the  point  was 
reached  where  the  straight  road  through  the  high- 
land stretched  out  itself  before  his  feet,  and  pros- 
perity began,  imparting  to  him  a  happy  existence 
under  the  fulfilment  of  his  ideals. 

But  the  phrase:  "My  foot  standeth  in  an  even 
place,"   attains   its   greatest    fullness    of    meaning 

391 


when  it  becomes  the  expression  of  that  assur- 
ance of  faith,  which  with  spiritual  elasticity,  knows 
how  to  overcome  every  difficulty  of  life  on  earth, 
and  now  proclaims  with  Habakkuk  (3:17): 
''Although  the  fig  tree  shall  not  blossom,  neither 
shall  fruit  be  in  the  vines;  and  there  shall  be  no 
herd  in  the  stalls,  yet  I  will  rejoice  in  the  Lord, 
I  will  joy  in  the  God  of  my  salvation." 

Let  the  ''Sunday-child,"  as  the  man  is  called 
who  has  never  known  reverses,  be  on  his  guard. 
A  life  without  cares,  without  troubles,  without 
sorrows  and  disappointments,  easily  spoils  one. 
Optimism  undoubtedly  cultivates  a  happy  state 
of  mind,  but  it  lacks  power  to  strengthen  char- 
acter, to  practice  elasticity  and  to  stretch  it,  and 
to  become  richer  in  noble  treasures  of  the  mind. 
But  this  is  not  the  worst  of  it.  It  is  far  worse 
that  the  "Sunday-child"  is  so  prone  to  attribute 
his  good  fortune  to  himself  and  to  think  that 
they  who  vainly  struggle,  owe  their  misfortunes 
to  their  simplemindedness.  He  is  the  man  who 
always  has  good  insight,  and  a  correct  estimate  of 
things.  Others  allowed  the  right  moment  to  go 
by  unimproved.  He  was  always  ready  to  act  at 
the  proper  time.  And  so  his  self-esteem  increases, 
which  cultivates  his  pride,  and  chokes  pity  for 
the  sorrows  and  adversities  of  others.  Or,  in  case 
such  a  child  of  fortune  is  still  somewhat  relig- 
iously inclined,  he  is  easily  tempted  to  regard 
himself  as  a  special  favorite  of  God,  whose  path- 
way, by  reason  of  this  Divine  preference,  was 
always  smooth,  and  he  lives  in  the  expectation 
that  in  the  providence  of  God  his  lot  in  life  will 
be  prosperous  to  the  end.  And  so  it  goes  on  with 
growing  conceit  in  the  idea  of  one's  own  superi- 

392 


ority  and  of  being  a  privileged  character,  until 
there  comes  a  turn  in  life,  and  the  sun  goes  hiding 
behind  the  clouds.  Then  everything  collapses  at 
once.  Then  there  is  no  power  of  resistance.  Then 
there  is  no  disciplined  strength.  Then  there  is 
nothing  to  hold  him  up  and  to  enable  him  to  cope 
with  his  difficulties.  And  in  the  end  he  is  lost  in 
self-perplexity,  having  neither  courage  to  live  nor 
hope  for  the  future. 

This  is  entirely  different  with  a  man  who  is 
beset  with  difficulties.  Every  new  year  of  his  hfe 
brought  him  new  troubles  in  the  face  of  which  to 
maintain  himself.  With  one  it  was  the  struggle 
for  existence  with  honor  both  of  himself  and 
family,  to  be  successful  in  his  calling  and  to 
accomplish  what  he  began.  With  another  it  was 
a  struggle  against  slander  and  envy.  With  a  third 
it  was  a  struggle  for  the  sake  of  his  conviction, 
of  his  views,  and  of  obtaining  an  entrance  for  his 
ideas.  Again,  it  was  an  endless  struggle  with 
impaired  health.  And  again  it  was  sorrow;  trouble 
because  of  a  child  that  brought  disappointment, 
or  grievous  affliction  in  the  loss  of  a  child  or  a 
beloved  wife  by  death.  And  though  there  are 
cases  where  such  troubled  times  give  place  to 
sunnier  days,  there  are  others  where  literally  for 
many  years  it  is  one  constant  struggle  with 
anxiety,  with  never-ending  disappointment,  with 
no  outlook  upon  relief.  This  frequently  brings 
the  bitter  result  that  gloomy  melancholy  settles 
upon  the  heart;  that  irascible  thoughts  acquire 
the  upper  hand;  and  that  haunted  by  the  idea 
that  every  opportunity  of  life  is  lost,  the  struggle 
is  abandoned,  and  emptied  of  will  and  courage, 
the  days  are  pined  away  in  ever  deepening  gloom. 

393 


But  there  have  always  been  others  who  have 
persevered,  who  would  not  give  up,  who  did  not 
abandon  hope,  and  who  by  great  pov/er  of  will 
reached  the  point,  where  they  could  breathe  again, 
and  opposition  seemed  broken.  And  thanks  to 
the  practice  acquired  in  the  struggle,  they  put 
forth  a  final,  giant  effort.  And,  indeed,  they 
overcame.  Now  they  were  through.  Now  better 
days  began.  And  with  an  inexpressible  feeling  of 
blessedness,  as  far  as  this  earthly  life  can  bring 
it,  they  exclaimed  in  a  very  different  way:  ''God 
be  praised,  my  foot  standeth  in  an  even  place." 

If  this  is  already  glorious,  there  is  still  a  higher 
viewpoint.  There  are  times  when  one  can  not 
row  up  against  the  stream  of  the  ills  of  life. 
These  can  take  hold  of  one's  life  so  deeply  as  to 
continue  with  him  unto  the  grave.  Even  he  who 
is  most  grievously  afllicted  has  no  guarantee  that 
better  days  will  come.  An  outcome  such  as  Job 
obtained,  to  no  one  is  assured.  It  may  please 
God  to  glorify  the  majestic  grace  of  faith  in  a 
life,  on  which  the  sun  of  happiness  has  never 
shone.  For  poor  Lazarus  the  hour  of  jo}'-  only 
came  when  he  was  carried  by  angels  into  Abra- 
ham's bosom.  We  have  no  right  to  anything; 
and  he  who  is  no  stranger  to  the  knowledge  of 
his  sin  will  not  demand  from  God  happiness  or 
deliverance  out  of  trouble.  He  may  pray  for  it 
and  supplicate  for  it,  but  it  always  is:  "Father, 
if  this  cup  can  not  pass  from  me;  not  my  will, 
but  thine  be  donel" 

But  this  is  the  glory,  that  wondrous  faith  not 
only  reveals  its  power  when  suffering  is  turned 
into  joy,  but  also,  and  even  more,  in  suffering 
itself,  and  most  of  all  when  the  sorrow  accom- 

394 


panies  us  to  the  grave,  and  the  cross  casts  its 
shadow  across  our  path  to  the  end.  For  this  is 
the  glory  of  faith,  that  it  discloses  another,  a 
better  way  to  us,  a  way  on  the  heights  of  the 
mountain  of  God's  holiness,  which  excels  the  ways 
of  our  earthly  life,  and  dissolves  all  our  sorrow, 
misery  and  affliction  of  soul  in  an  higher  vision. 
This  way  of  faith  passes  not  under  the  cloud 
which  prevents  the  sun  from  shining  on  our  path. 
He  who  travels  this  path  has  the  clouds  under 
him,  and  enjoys  the  free  shining  of  the  sun  of 
grace.  And  then  whether  things  in  life  succeed 
or  fail,  whether  the  struggle  must  be  begun  anew, 
or  whether  at  last  the  struggle  against  what  the 
world  calls  fate,  is  too  much  for  him — in  pleasure 
and  distress,  in  sorrow  and  in  joy,  in  prosperity 
and  in  adversity — the  soul  maintains  its  equipoise, 
the  heart  remains  strong  and  fixed,  and  glorying 
in  faith  he  says:  Whatever  be  my  lot,  my  foot 
standeth  in  an  even  place,  which  through  faith, 
God  has  disclosed  to  me. 

74 

"AN  ABUNDANT  REFRESHING." 
Life  in  the  world  above  bears  an  entirely  dif- 
ferent aspect  from  life  on  earth.  In  the  realm  of 
glor3^  is  no  sin,  and  consequently  jqo  redemption; 
no  misery  and  therefore  no  deliverance.  Neither 
can  there  be  the  transition  from  doubt  to  faith, 
from  weakness  to  strength,  from  grief  to  comfort. 
In  brief,  all  that  by  sin  and  misery  brings  con- 
stant changes,  disturbance,  transition,  restoration 
and  higher  exaltation  in  our  life  on  earth,  is  ex- 
cluded from  the  life  eternal. 
This  process  of  continuous  change  was  foreign 

395 


to  life  in  Paradise,  and  when  sin  came  in,  Para- 
dise was  gone,  and  the  curse  overtook  our  earthly- 
existence.  Not  as  though  deadly  monotony  pre- 
vailed in  Paradise,  or  that  in  heaven  the  absence 
of  all  change  about  God's  throne  would  occasion 
a  somber  pall  to  darken  the  life  of  the  blessed. 
Without  endless  distinction  no  higher  life  is  think- 
able, and  that  richer  unfolding  of  life  before  the 
throne  of  God  shall  once  exceed  and  excel  every- 
thing that  we  have  known  as  higher  development 
of  life  on  earth  or  have  dreamed  of  in  poetic 
fancy. 

But  life  in  the  hereafter  can  not  be  measured 
by  the  standards  of  this  life.  It  is  of  a  different 
sort.  It  bears  a  different  character.  It  obeys  a 
different  law.  It  interests  and  charms  the  senses 
by  an  entirely  different  beauty,  wealth  and  enjoy- 
ment. On  this  very  account  it  always  is  to  be  an 
object  of  faith  and  hope,  and  does  not  lend  itself 
to  forecasting  in  this  life.  And  though  Scripture 
may  employ  images  from  the  earthly  by  which  to 
convey  to  us  an  impression  of  the  heavenly,  every- 
one feels  that  the  fat  full  of  marrow  and  unmixed 
wine  of  the  marriage-feast  of  the  Lamb  serve  ex- 
clusively to  waken  the  sensation  of  festal  joy, 
and  are  by  no  means  intended  to  indicate  wherein 
this  heavenly  delight  shall  consist.  It  hath  not  yet 
been  revealed  what  we  shall  be.  It  is  enough  for 
us  to  know  that  it  will  be  a  life  in  endless  joy 
and  glory.  But  how  this  joy  shall  once  disclose 
itself  to  us,  and  in  what  form  it  will  present  itself, 
faith  leaves  with  God.  And  all  that  the  souls  of 
God's  children  can  desire,  in  expectation  of  this 
glory,  centers  itself  in  the  Father  who  is  in 
heaven  and  his  son  Jesus  Christ. 


Here  on  earth  sin  characterizes  all  of  life.  It 
does  this  by  no  means  merely  in  the  sense,  that 
sin  is  continuously  committed  night  and  day,  and 
that  sin  occasions  ruin,  but  rather  in  this  sense 
that  sin  breaks  human  life,  constantly  removes  its 
supports  and  makes  them  change,  and  makes  the 
way  of  life  not  straight,  but  restlessly  to  go  up 
and  down;  now  through  deep  places,  again  across 
heights,  now  through  light,  then  through  dark- 
ness; now  marked  by  laughter,  then  by  the  weep- 
ing of  those  who  mourn.  That  there  is  pleasure 
and  pain;  joy  and  sorrow;  that  there  is  strength 
and  health  and  again  weakness  and  sickness;  that 
there  is  birth  and  death;  a  carrying  to  baptism 
and  a  carrying  out  to  the  grave ;  that  there  is  total 
exhaustion  and  revival  of  strength;  that  there  is 
corruption  of  soul  and  conversion;  that  there  is 
temptation  and  allurement  after  Christ;  in  brief, 
that  all  of  life  reaches  upwards  and  breaks  into 
endless  antitheses,  springs  from  the  one  all- 
dominant  fact  of  sin. 

When  it  is  once  fixed  in  the  mind  that  without 
sin  there  would  be  no  misery,  no  sickness  and  no 
death  in  the  earth,  that  it  is  sin  which  imprints 
its  stamp  of  rupture  and  of  healing  upon  our 
entire  earthly  life,  it  is  exceedingly  interesting 
for  once  to  picture  human  existence  from  the  view- 
point of  this  rupture.  Without  sin  there  would 
be  no  judges  to  pass  sentence,  no  physicians  to 
heal  the  sick,  no  clergy  to  preach  God's  Word,  no 
works  of  mercy,  no  church  of  God  in  the  earth. 
It  must  not  be  inferred  from  this,  of  course,  that 
this  broken  life  which  has  burst  into  all  sorts  of 
differences  and  antitheses,  is  the  real  life.  Life  in 
holy  harmony  and  unbroken  unity  stands  infinitely 

397 


higher,  and  shall  one  day  show  itself  to  be  our 
true,  real  human  existence,  even  as  it  is  this 
already  for  God's  angels.  But  it  does  follow  from 
this  that  our  earthly  life  must  be  continuously 
tossed  and  shaken  and  move  ever  up  and  down; 
and  that  it  becomes  richer,  more  interesting  and 
more  significant  in  the  measure  in  which  we  are 
exposed  to  stronger  tossings,  and  the  up  and 
down  movement  of  our  existence  assumes  larger 
proportions.  These  tossings  in  life  are  unequal. 
With  one  they  are  far  more  serious  and  grievous 
than  with  another.  There  are  those  who  are 
scarcely  ever  moved,  and  who  in  consequence 
know  but  little  elevation  of  life.  But  there  are 
others  who  are  cast  to  the  bottom  of  the  deepest 
abyss  of  suffering,  but  who  as  a  result  can  have 
most  blessed  walks  on  the  mountains  of  God's 
holiness. 

Of  this  latter  class  one  is  continually  the  speaker 
in  the  Psalms.  This  accounts  on  one  hand  for 
the  calls  from  depths  of  misery  and  for  the  com- 
plaints that  bands  of  death  and  hell  strike  terror 
to  his  soul,  and  on  the  other  hand  for  the  jubilant 
exultations  on  account  of  deliverance  and  redemp- 
tion, which  result  in  the  grateful  acknowledgment, 
that  God  has  brought  him  into  a  ver}'  abundant 
refreshing  (Ps.  66:12  Dutch  version). 

Refreshing  means  the  renewal  of  strength.  A 
fresh  team  before  the  wagon  means  one  that 
comes  from  pasture  in  the  fulness  of  strength.  A 
fresh  corps  of  troops  means  a  battle  array  which 
had  no  part  yet  at  the  front  but  goes  out  in 
unimpaired  vigor.  So  there  is  refreshing  when 
you  come  out  of  a  period  of  deadly  weariness  of 
soul,   of   utter  loss   of  strength,   of   inner   under- 

398 


milling,  so  that  rejuvenated  and  renewed  in 
strength  of  life  you  feel  by  the  grace  of  God  that 
you  have  been,  as  it  were,  given  back  to  your- 
self, in  order,  as  though  nothing  had  ever  been 
the  matter  with  you,  in  full  realization  of  Divine 
grace,  with  renewed  courage  to  take  up  the  battle 
of  life  again.  This  refreshing  can  bear  a  two- 
fold character.  It  can  be  a  refreshing  from  spirit- 
ual fainting,  but  it  can  also  be  a  refreshing  from 
discouragement  with  your  lot  in  life.  You  may 
have  been  near  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death, 
and  now  you  walk  again  in  lovely  sunlight,  which 
illumines  all  of  life.  The  feeling  of  oppression 
and  distress  which  trouble,  adversity,  bereave- 
ment and  suffering  brings  can  weigh  like  a  ton 
upon  the  heart,  and  almost  crush  it.  Most  people 
never  learn  what  this  means.  They,  too,  drink 
their  cup,  but  to  most  people  by  far  this  cup  is 
not  handed  save  by  measure.  They  would  have 
no  greatness  of  soul  to  endure  it.  But  there  have 
alw^ays  been  a  few,  against  whose  breast  the  waves 
of  the  bitter  lot  beat  restlessly  and  unsparingly 
and  almost  so  pitilessly,  that  only  their  inborn 
heroic  nature  protected  them  by  God's  grace 
from  fainting.  Such  a  period  can  be  long  pro- 
tracted, and  the  continuance  of  trouble  and  suffer- 
ing is  namelessly  exhausting  and  fatiguing:.  But 
when  finally  there  is  a  surcease,  and  sunny  days 
arrive,  and  the  oil  of  gladness  is  given  for  mourn- 
ing, it  frequently  pleases  the  Lord  to  impart  to 
such  a  sufferer  of  the  Job-type  such  unknown  joy 
of  life  that  the  song  of  praise  rises  from  the  soul: 
''O,  my  God,  Thou  hast  brought  me  an  abundant 
refreshing." 
It  is  more  quiet,  but  still  more  blessed  when 

399 


this  abundant  refreshing  overtakes  us  spiritually. 
Of  course,  this  only  overtakes  him  who  exists 
spiritually,  who  inwardly  leads  a  spiritual  life  and 
who  can  thirst  after  God  as  the  hart  thirsts  after 
the  water  brooks.  The  many  thousands  who  live 
in  unconcern,  without  ever  missing  fellowship 
with  God,  stand  entirely  outside  of  this.  But 
when  you  are  aware  of  a  spiritual  life  in  the  soul; 
when  you  know  what  it  is  to  be  initiated  in  the 
secret  walk  with  God;  when  you  have  learned 
every  morning  and  every  evening  to  draw  real 
strength  from  seeking  and  finding  God;  then  life 
divides  itself  for  you  into  two  sharply  contrasted 
sorts  of  days:  days  when  rich  in  God,  and  living 
close  to  him,  you  feel  the  soul  within  you  leap 
for  joy;  and  other  days,  when  the  heavens  seem 
like  brass,  and  you  are  thrown  back  upon  your- 
self, and  nothing  but  darkness  is  perceived  within, 
and  like  lost  sheep  you  feel  that  you  have  wan- 
dered away  from  God.  This  may  be  the  result 
of  committed  sin,  but  it  can  also  be  that  God 
purposely  leads  you  through  darkness,  to  try  your 
faith  and  to  operate  on  you  more  deeply  with 
unseen  grace.  So  there  may  be  days,  and  weeks, 
and  sometimes  months  that  God  hides  his  face 
from  you;  that  no  star  appears  in  the  dark  sky 
of  the  soul;  and  that,  feeling  yourself  forsaken  of 
God,  you  mourn  within  yourself  with  a  sorrow 
which  the  world  neither  knows  nor  understands, 
but  which  cuts  you  sorely  through  the  heart. 

But  this  suffering  is  only  for  a  time.  In  the 
forsakenness  you  were  not  forsaken,  but  God  was 
operating  on  you  with  a  grace,  the  fruit  of  which 
you  would  only  recognize  and  enjoy  later  on. 
And  when  at  length  these  days  of  spiritual  dark- 

400 


ness  are  ended,  and  light  shines  forth  again,  and 
God  returns  to  reveal  himself  to  you  in  the  full- 
ness of  his  grace,  then  for  you  also  there  is  abun- 
dant refreshing.  And  then  you  perceive  and  con- 
fess that  had  not  God  led  you  through  this  depth 
of  forsakenness,  you  would  never  have  experienced 
such  deep  joy  in  your  soul,  as  now  became  your 
portion.  Only  after  having  led  you  through  this 
depth  of  darkness,  was  God  able  to  bring  you  out 
to  such  abundant  refreshing. 

75 

"FROM  STRENGTH  TO  STRENGTH." 

To  go  from  strength  to  strength  is  to  grow,  to 
wax  strong,  to  increase.  It  is  not  to  remain  what 
we  are,  and  mostly  retrograde.  On  the  contrary  it 
is  to  advance,  to  make  progress,  to  become  richer, 
fuUer  and  more  abundant  in  faith,  in  virtue  of 
which  to  become  richer  in  godliness  and  in  fruits 
meet  for  repentance. 

God  shows  this  growth  from  strength  to  strength 
in  plants.  When  the  oak  first  starts  to  grow,  it 
can  be  bent  over  with  the  hand,  but  when  it 
obtains  size  and  becomes  a  full-grown  tree,  it  is 
able  by  its  strength  to  resist  the  hurricane.  The 
same  is  shown  in  animals.  The  young  colt  which 
at  first  is  scarcely  able  to  stand  up  becomes  after 
a  few  years  the  strong  horse,  after  whose  power 
man  estimates  the  power  of  steam,  which  laughs 
at  the  heavily  laden  wagon,  and  with  rider  in 
saddle  leaps  over  wall  and  hedge. 

But  God  shows  this  process  more  beautifully 
in  our  own  child.  First  the  helpless  babe,  which 
is  fondled  on  the  lap,  and  has  to  be  carried  on  the 
arm.     Then  the  struggle  with  the  difficulties   of 


learning  to  walk,  until  at  last  it  succeeds  when 
the  ankles  have  become  stronger.  And  so  the 
growth  goes  on  until  full  maturity  is  reached; 
and  then  there  is  strength  for  a  hard  run,  the  bold 
jump,  the  climb  of  a  steep  rock,  the  defiance  of 
weariness  and  fatigue. 

All  this  is  material.  The  growth  of  oak  and 
horse,  and  the  growth  of  the  child,  with  regard  to 
the  body.  But  this  increase  of  strength  is  not 
confined  to  the  material;  from  the  visible  it  ex- 
tends to  the  invisible.  There  is  also  develop- 
ment in  the  human  spirit.  Development  by  train- 
ing of  the  artistic  talent,  which  was  latent  at  first, 
then  made  itself  known,  and  gradually  became 
capable  of  mightier  utterance.  But  there  is  also 
development  through  training,  education,  and  self- 
exertion  on  the  part  of  the  thinking  spirit  to  fur- 
nish the  store-house  of  memory  ever  more  richly, 
to  clarify  the  insight  into  the  world  round  about, 
to  grasp  unity  in  multiplicity,  to  feel  the  relation 
between  dull  reality  and  high  idealism,  and  thus 
to  stand  ever  more  strongly  in  spirit  and  might. 
Always  growing,  ever  increasing,  with  the  excelsior- 
flag  around  the  shoulders  climbing  the  mountain 
steeps. 

This  development  from  strength  to  strength 
becomes  different,  when  we  pass  on  from  the 
invisible  in  art,  and  the  invisible  of  the  under- 
standing, to  the  domain  where  character  unfolds, 
and  the  moral  man  is  formed  and  steeled.  To 
obtain  strength  of  will  and  gradually  to  steel 
this  will  power.  To  feel  the  waking  up  of  the 
sense  of  honor  and  to  see  it  come  to  an  ever 
finer  point.  To  see  the  bud  of  fidelity  and  honesty 
unfold  and  blossom  ever  more  beautifully.     To 

402 


observe  by  the  side  of  sense  and  love  of  truth 
the  rise  of  hatred  against  falsehood.  To  become 
ever  more  deeply  conscious  of  the  sense  of 
justice,  to  see  the  seriousness  of  life  increase. 
0,  it  all  presents  the  beautiful  image  of  a  going 
from  strength  to  strength  in  the  inner  personality. 
In  body  grows  the  man,  in  understanding  the 
scholar,  in  character  the  person. 

But  even  this  does  not  express  the  meaning  of 
going  ''from  strength  to  strength"  in  the  song  of 
the  Psalmist.  In  the  child  of  God  there  is  still 
another  life;  the  life  of  Divine  grace.  In  this 
life  also  there  must  be  advance,  growth  and 
development.  Here,  too,  the  law  must  operate. 
Not  to  remain  what  we  are,  but  to  go  on  and  to 
go  further  from  strength  to  strength. 

In  the  world  of  matter,  growth  has  its  measure, 
its  limit.  In  the  acorn  it  is  assigned  how  high 
the  oak  which  springs  from  it  shall  be  able  to  lift 
itself.  At  first  it  sprouts,  then  grows  and  gains, 
but  at  last  the  limit,  the  measure  is  reached;  and 
then  the  oak  may  expand  in  thickness  of  trunk 
and  breadth  of  foliage,  but  there  is  no  more  gain 
in  height.  Such  is  the  case  with  animal  growth. 
From  being  little,  it  becomes  large,  expands  and 
becomes  full  grown.  In  the  course  of  a  few  years, 
however,  sometimes  after  only  a  few  months,  or 
even  weeks,  the  measure  of  the  animal  is  ex- 
hausted, and  its  size  remains  what  it  is.  The  same 
applies  to  the  human  form.  Far  more  slowly  than 
animals  man  gradually  reaches  his  growth  in 
height.  This  takes  sometimes  twenty  and  more 
years.  But  at  last  the  measure  here,  too,  is  com- 
plete. Then  there  follow  changes,  fuller  strength, 
and  expansion,  but  he  gains  no  more  in  height. 

403 


With  old  people  not  infrequently  there  is  shrink- 
ing and  diminution. 

With  the  artist  also  there  is  a  moment  in  hia 
life  when  he  has  reached  his  zenith,  and  the  full- 
ness and  richness  of  his  expression  of  art  rather 
decreases  than  gains.  In  the  intellectual  domain 
there  may  be  a  few  whose  minds  at  70  or  80  years 
of  age  are  still  fresh  and  green,  and  even  excel  in 
depth  and  wealth  of  scope — but  for  by  far  the 
most  the  boundary  line  is  here  drawn,  beyond 
which  there  is  no  more  advance,  and  which  indi- 
cates the  end  of  development.  Only  in  the  domain 
of  morals  and  of  the  unfolding  of  character  this 
limit  by  itself  can  not  be  shown.  Love  and  con- 
secration can  ever  increase.  Solidity  of  character 
can  advance  in  strength  even  unto  death.  And 
this  claim  is  imposed  upon  the  child  of  God.  No 
reaching  of  limit  here  on  earth,  but  always  a  going 
further  and  further.  Even  until  death  a  going 
from  strength  to  strength. 

But  here  our  misery  appears,  which  alas!  ob- 
trudes itself  inexorably  even  upon  the  work  of 
grace.  Observe  it  with  yourself,  watch  it  with 
others.  See  it  in  a  child  of  God,  after  an  absence 
of  ten  or  twenty  years.  For  then  you  ought  to 
see  in  him,  and  he  in  you,  as  with  eyes,  and 
handle  with  hands,  the  ripe  fruit  of  this  ten  or 
twenty  years'  work  of  grace.  And  is  it  so?  Can 
it  be  truly  said,  that  a  child  of  God,  who  was  con- 
verted in  early  life,  at  60  years  of  age  is  ten  years 
farther  advanced  in  grace  than  he  was  at  50? 
Do  you  feel  and  observe  a  doubling  in  the  power 
of  grace  when  you  meet  again  at  forty  years  of 
age  him  whom  you  lost  from  sight  when  he  was 
thirty?     Do  parents,  after  the  measure  of  their 

404 


years,  as  a  rule,  stand  so  much  higher?  Is  the 
oldest  child  in  the  family  always  farthest  advanced 
in  grace?  Observe  particularly  certain  defects  in 
character,  certain  well-known  weaknesses  and  little 
sins,  that  showed  themselves  unpleasantly  in  a 
child  of  God,  ten  or  twenty  years  ago.  Meet- 
ing such  a  brother  or  sister  again  after  this  interval 
of  years,  is  the  change  marked  as  a  rule,  and  is  it 
observed  with  joy,  that  all  these  unpleasant  sins 
and  defects  are  gone  without  leaving  any  trace? 
Or  is  it  not  rather  true  that  after  twenty  and 
more  years  you  find  all  too  often  in  your  acquaint- 
ances and  friends,  yea,  in  your  own  children  and 
parents  the  same  limited  grace,  which  you 
mourned  in  them  before,  and  this  gift  of  grace 
as  intricately  bound  up  with  the  same  thorns  and 
thistles  as  before?  Moreover,  when  you  consider 
yourself,  and  examine  your  own  life  before  the 
face  of  God,  are  you  not  bound  to  confess  with 
shame,  ■  that  sometimes  ten  long  years  have  ad- 
vanced you  no  single  step  in  spiritual  growth,  and 
that  the  old  weeds  still  flourish  with  old-time  lux- 
uriance in  the  field  of  the  heart  within? 

What  is  the  ordinary  course  of  things?  Is  it 
not  that  one  becomes  converted;  that  after  con- 
version he  concentrates  his  mind  and  soul  on  holy 
things,  and  in  all  sorts  of  ways  acts  differently 
than  before,  and  that  in  doing  this  he  becomes 
conscious  of  a  rupture  with  his  past  and  the  be- 
ginnings of  a  new  life.  At  first  it  is  even  too 
ideally  strung,  so  that  after  a  few  brief  years  a 
calmer  state  ensues.  And  this  stage  of  the  life  of 
grace  in  most  cases  becomes  permanent.  It  re- 
mains what  it  is,  but  growth  there  is  none.  One 
feeds  on  what  was  gained  as  spiritual  capital  in 

405 


that  first  period  of  grace.  There  is  considerable 
increase  in  knowledge,  as  well  as  in  spiritual  ex- 
perience and  in  spiritual  wisdom,  but  there  is  no 
acquisition  of  higher  strength.  Sometimes  even 
there  is  a  relapse,  which  is  not  survived  except 
with  much  difficulty.  And  so  there  is  consider- 
able satisfaction.  There  is  no  striving  after  higher 
things.  And  one  remains  what  he  came  to  be 
until  death. 

We  do  not  say  that  this  is  the  case  with  all. 
There  are  those,  thank  God,  who  bum  as  sliining 
lights  in  the  congregation,  and  who  do  not  cease 
all  the  days  of  their  lives  to  drink  deeply  from 
the  cup  of  grace.  But  yet  how  different  would 
the  revelation  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  be  among 
the  people,  if  all  they  who  believe,  who  know 
themselves  to  be  children  of  God,  from  the  hour 
of  conversion  until  the  day  of  death,  would  cause 
the  call  of  progress  to  be  sounded  in  the  soul. 
Who  can  say  what  it  would  be  in  the  heart,  in 
the  home,  in  the  church  of  God  with  every  one  of 
us  if  it  were  and  ever  continued  to  be,  an  un- 
interrupted going  forward  from  strength  to 
strength ! 

76 

''BLESSED  ARE  THE  PURE  IN  HEART." 

A  truly  sinless,  pure  heart  is  the  precious  pos- 
session in  the  eyes  of  a  child  of  God  which  he 
always  prays  for,  but  which  here  on  earth  he 
never  obtains.  They  who  stand  outside  of  the 
faith  are  not  considered  here.  We  fully  grant 
that  they  value  purity  of  heart.  We  do  not  deny 
that  they  strive  after  it.  But  what  they  mean 
by  it  is  something  else.     For  the  child  of  God 

406 


purity  of  heart  is  the  means  of  seeing  God.  For 
the  others  it  is  rather  the  way  by  which  not  to 
fail  of  high  moral  character.  And  these  two  can 
not  be  mentioned  in  the  same  breath. 

"Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart"  is  a  word  of 
Jesus,  which  was  purposely  spoken  to  the  children  of 
God,  as  Matt.  5 :8  clearly  shows.  For  it  immediately 
follows:  "Blessed  are  the  peacemakers,  for  they 
shall  be  called  the  children  of  God."  And  it  is 
self-evident  that  the  seven  beatitudes  together 
deal  with  the  same  class  of  persons.  The  peace- 
makers, the  pure  in  heart,  they  who  hunger  and 
thirst  after  righteousness,  they  who  are  poor  in 
spirit,  and  so  much  more,  are  always  that  people 
that  puts  itself  under  the  guardian-care  of  Jesus 
and  desire  to  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
which  has  come  nigh. 

Virtuous  people,  even  moral  idealists,  are  not 
considered  here.  Undoubtedly  there  is  much  in 
them  that  must  be  highly  prized  with  respect  to 
this  earthly  hfe.  But  this  is  not  reckoned  with 
now.  They  who  have  been  initiated  in  the  secret 
of  salvation,  they  who  have  passed  from  the 
world  into  the  kingdom  of  the  Son  of  God's  love, 
alone  are  here  considered.  Purity  of  heart  which 
leads  to  seeing  God  is  not  anywhere  conceivable 
save  in  a  child  of  God. 

This  is  not  said  without  a  tremor.  It  is  exceed- 
ingly difficult  to  know  who  is,  and  who  is  not,  a 
child  of  God.  There  are  those  who  are,  but  who 
scarcely  dare  to  confess  it  of  themselves;  and 
others  appropriate  it  to  themselves  who  exhibit 
little  of  its  characteristics;  while  many  more  on 
the  other  hand  make  themselves  known  in  a 
way  that  raises  serious  doubts  whether  their  con- 

407 


fessed  ''childship"  is  not  "stolen  goods".  But  apart 
from  this,  it  is  certain,  that  the  most  faithful  chil- 
dren of  God  are  continually  engaged  in  bitter 
combat,  because  there  is  still  so  much  impurity 
in  their  hearts,  which  every  time  again  is  a  stain 
upon  their  lives.  Even  this  is  not  all.  It  must  be 
confessed  that  not  infrequently  two  men  or  two 
women  stand  side  by  side  in  life,  one  of  whom 
zealously  works  for  Christ  while  the  other  rejects 
him,  and  that,  when  the  test  is  applied  of  purity 
of  heart  and  behavior,  the  confessor  of  Jesus  is 
put  to  shame  by  the  denier  of  Christ.  This  is 
grievous  for  the  faith;  and  is  to  be  mourned  with 
tears.  It  must  not,  however,  be  ignored.  David 
did  not  do  so,  neither  did  St.  Paul.  "The  good 
that  I  would  I  do  not:  but  the  evil  which  I 
would  not,  that  I  do"  (Rom.  7:19).  And  in  all 
ages  this  sore  battle  has  been  waged  in  the 
church  of  Christ.  Hypocrites,  false  brethren, 
stand  outside  of  this.  They  are  not  reckoned 
with  here.  Among  true  confessors,  age  on  age,  the 
same  complaint  has  been  current.  It  is  even 
worked  out  sometimes  into  a  sinful  system  of  the 
old  and  the  new  Adam,  even  as  Maeterlinck  is 
doing  now  from  his  viewpoint  of  unbelief.  But 
however  it  may  be  experienced,  interpreted  or  ex- 
plained, the  phenomenon  shows  itself  every  time: 
there  is  true,  sincere  confession,  there  is  faith  of 
the  right  sort,  and  with  it  there  is  a  hopeless 
struggle  with  the  impurity  of  the  heart. 

To  be  pure  in  heart  moreover  is  mostly  mis- 
understood, as  though  it  referred  exclusively  to 
purity  from  sensual  sin.  The  voluptuary  is  then 
called  unclean,  the  man  who  drinks  to  excess,  the 
epicure,    the    miser,    the    effeminate.     And    cer- 

408 


tainly  these  gross  sins  should  first  of  all  be 
abandoned.  But  he  who  is  free  from  these  ex- 
cesses is,  therefore,  by  no  means  yet  pure  in  heart. 
Purity  of  heart  embraces  the  entire  life  of  the 
soul.  Pride,  arrogance,  dishonest  practice,  anger, 
hate,  falsehood,  and  so  much  more,  including  even 
ordinary  vanity  and  self-sufficiency  make  the 
waters  of  the  human  heart  muddy  and  unclean. 
Whatever  does  not  belong  in  the  heart  renders  it 
unclean.  As  a  pond  becomes  unclean  by  what 
passersby  throw  into  it,  so  the  human  heart  is 
defiled  by  everything  that  God  did  not  create  in 
it,  but  which  has  entered  into  it  from  Satan  or 
from  the  world.  And  the  awful  part  of  it  is 
that  already  at  birth  so  many  germs  of  impurity 
were  imparted  unto  it,  which  until  death  are  never 
wholly  lost.  That  we  live  in  a  world  which 
strongly  furthers  the  growth  of  these  impurities. 
That  we  mingle  with  people,  who,  inwardly 
impure,  accustom  us,  so  long  as  it  does  not  lead 
to  gross  excess,  to  make  light  of  this  impurity  in 
ourselves,  and  of  like  impurity  in  them.  This 
weakens  our  moral  sense,  our  moral  judgment, 
and  makes  us  dream  of  a  pure  heart,  the  whiles 
in  many  points  we  remain  impure  of  heart. 

If  Jesus  had  meant  that  they  only  go  out  free, 
who  never  caught  their  own  heart  in  any  impure 
thought,  inclination  or  sensation  again,  this  beati- 
tude would  drive  the  soul  to  despair.  For  no  one 
is  like  this.  The  struggle  with  impure  germs  in 
the  heart  continues  until  death.  We  make  ad- 
vances, but  only  by  applying  an  ever  finer  test; 
by  detecting  impurity  in  things  which  before  did 
not  even  suggest  the  thought  of  sin  to  us.  The 
more  we  advance  in  faith,  the  keener  the  eye  of 

409 


the  soul  becomes  in  the  discovery  of  sin,  and  for 
this  reason  the  more  we  shake  ourselves  free 
from  sin,  the  sense  of  guilt  does  not  diminish,  but 
rather  increases.  The  world  does  not  understand 
this,  when  it  hears  an  angel  of  love  and  mercy 
touchingly  plead  for  forgiveness  of  guilt.  But  by 
itself  there  is  nothing  strange  in  this.'  They  who 
have  far  advanced  in  godly  living  now  discover 
sin  in  what  before  seemed  to  them  perhaps  even 
virtue.  Jesus  knew  this,  and  therefore  this  can 
not  have  been  meant.  It  does  not  say:  Blessed 
are  they  who  have  a  pure  heart,  a  heart  without 
sin,  but:  Blessed  are  they  who  are  pure  of  heart. 
In  the  heart  the  ego  dwells,  the  person  acts, 
the  child  of  God  thinks,  ponders,  decides  and 
chooses.  Hence  there  is  a  difference  between  what 
the  self  finds  in  the  heart,  and  what  it  there  orders 
and  directs.  And  since  no  one  dwells  anywhere 
else  than  in  a  heart  that  is  inwardly  defiled,  and 
from  which  all  sorts  of  poisonous  vapors  arise,  the 
question  regarding  purity  or  impurity  of  heart  is 
only  decided  by  the  question,  whether  these  cor- 
rupting tendencies  of  the  heart  are  regarded  with 
deep  hatred  and  fiery  indignation,  or  whether 
there  is  sympathy  with  them,  and  they  are 
granted  indulgence  by  the  Will  and  by  the  Mind. 
Frequent  failure  is  not  suflficient  proof  of  impur- 
ity of  heart.  The  question  is  whether  impurity  is 
resisted,  whether  it  is  striven  against  with  all  the 
spiritual  power  one  has  at  his  command,  whether 
with  the  invocation  of  the  help  of  God  and  of 
his  Christ  and  of  his  angels,  everything  that 
threatens  defeat  is  avoided,  and  the  supplication 
is  continued:  "Lead  me  not  into  tempation,  but 
deliver  me  from  evil." 

410 


This  alone  is  the  point.  In  the  heart  self 
must  stand  pure  in  battle  array  against  the  impiu*- 
ities  that  proceed  from  the  heart.  When  the  dis- 
tinction is  ignored  between  the  self  that  believes, 
and  the  inequalities  that  prevail  in  the  heart,  you 
are  lost.  For  then  you  identify  yourself  with 
these  impurities.  Then  you  sink  away  in  the  evil 
waters  of  your  own  heart  and  are  drowned  in 
your  sinful  inclinations. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  in  the  inner  chambers 
of  your  heart  you  are  bold',  heroic  and  determined 
in  your  stand  of  bitter  hatred  against  your  sinful 
inclinations,  as  against  your  mortal  enemy,  the 
heart  may  remain  full  of  impurities  until  death, 
but  you  are  pure  of  heart,  and  by  God's  grace 
you  triumph  again  and  again  over  the  sin  that 
attacks  you  in  the  heart.  Then  Satan  is  not  your 
tempter,  but  God  is  your  confederate.  Then  the 
struggle  which  is  never  given  up  brings  you  the 
closer  to  God,  and  in  the  midst  of  battle  there 
are  moments  when  with  the  vision  of  the  eye  of 
the  soul,  you  see,  as  it  were,  your  God. 

77 

"IN  THE  NIGHT  I  COMMUNED  WITH 
MINE  OWN  HEART." 

Sleep  and  prayer  have  this  in  common  that 
both  he  who  prays  and  he  who  sleeps  closes  his 
eyes,  and  retires  from  light  into  darkness.  But 
they  are  not  the  same.  He  who  prays  will  close 
his  eyes,  in  order  not  to  be  distracted  by  what  is 
seen  around  him.  If  possible  he  would  stop  his 
ears  in  order  not  to  be  distracted  by  noises  from 
without.  There  is  also  prayer  with  others  to 
which  other  considerations  apply.     But  by  itself 


one  who  prays  seeks  strength  in  retirement.  This 
is  expressed  in  what  Jesus  told  his  disciples:  ''But 
thou,  when  thou  prayest,  enter  into  thy  closet 
and  shut  the  door  behind  thee"(Matth.  6:6).  And 
he  set  us  the  example,  as  often  as  he  withdrew  him- 
self for  prayer  into  the  solitude  of  the  wilderness, 
or  into  the  loneliness  of  the  mountains.  Even  in 
Gethsemane  the  Lord  seeks  solitude  for  his  last 
agonized  prayer,  and  leaves  his  disciples  at  a  dis- 
tance, that  he  might  pray  alone. 

Insofar  as  this  expresses  a  desire  for  rest  and 
quiet  in  prayer,  it  agrees  with  what  we  seek  in 
sleep.  But  with  this  the  likeness  ends.  With 
prayer  we  withdraw  from  the  world  that  in  our 
fellowship  with  Almighty  God  we  maj^  be  more 
fully  awake  to  the  higher  order  of  things.  In 
sleep,  on  the  other  hand,  we  retire  from  the  world, 
in  order  to  lose  ourselves  in  unconsciousness  and 
in  forgetfulness  of  self.  At  least,  such  it  is,  when 
everything  is  normal.  In  Paradise  it  would 
always  have  been  so.  But  in  stern  reality  prayer 
and  sleep  are  continually  confused  in  a  two-fold 
way.  They  are  confused  in  such  a  way  that 
prayer  is  overtaken  by  what  belongs  to  sleep,  and 
when  we  lie  down  to  sleep  the  soul  passes  into  the 
attitude  of  prayer.  Not  as  though  in  prayer  many 
actually  fall  asleep.  That  this  happens  some- 
times when  prayer  is  too  long,  is  granted.  This, 
however,  is  always  exceptional.  But  what  fre- 
quently happens  is,  that  he  who  with  others 
prays  with  him  who  leads  in  prayer,  either  allows 
his  mind  to  be  diverted  or  unconsciously  lets  it 
rest.  And  that  the  night,  which  was  intended  for 
sleep,  frequently  ends  in  prayer,  see  it  in  the  case 
of  Asaph,  as  in  Psalm  77  R.  V.  2,  5,  he  complains: 

412 


"My  hand  was  stretched  out  in  the  night  to  my 
God  in  prayer.  Thou,  Lord,  held  mine  eyes  watch- 
ing. In  the  night  I  communed  with  mine  own 
heart;  and  my  spirit  made  diligent  search." 

When  we  close  our  eyes  for  sleep,  or  for  prayer, 
we  go  out  from  light,  by  excluding  the  same,  into 
desired  darkness.  We  do  this  with  respect  to 
sleep,  that  with  our  spirit  we  may  sink  back 
into  the  darkness  of  unconscious  life;  and  with 
respect  to  prayer,  that,  shut  out  from  light  of 
day,  we  may  seek  in  clearer  conciousness  the 
higher  light  which  shines  around  the  throne  of 
God. 

In  nature,  light  is  not  disturbed  by  darkness,  for 
darkness  is  there  of  itself,  and  it  is  only  by 
increasing  light  that  darkness  is  overcome.  At 
first  there  was  no  light,  but  darkness.  "The  earth 
was  without  form  and  void  and  darkness  was  upon 
the  face  of  the  deep;"  and  in  that  darkness  Hght 
broke  forth  by  the  creative  word  of  God.  And 
when,  later  on,  darkness  again  covers  the  earth, 
it  does  not  obtrude  upon  light  from  without,  but 
is  there  of  itself,  as  soon  as  light  withdraws  itself. 
This  is  so  in  the  world  of  matter,  and  spiritually 
it  is  not  otherwise.  There  was  darkness  in  nature, 
and  so  it  remained  until  God  created  light;  and 
so  soon  as  God  withdraws  the  Ught  of  sun,  moon 
and  stars,  darkness  returns. 

So  in  the  mind  of  a  new-bom  child  there  is 
at  first  entire  unconsciousness  and  ignorance.  This 
continues  until  the  light  of  the  consciousness 
awakens  in  the  soul,  and  gradually  gains  in  clear- 
ness. But  this  clearness  of  the  consciousness  can 
fade  again  into  darkness.  This  happens  when  one 
faints,  or  is  hypnotized,  in  part  also  with  the  insane 

413 


and  the  dotage  of  old  age.  The  same  happens 
moreover  every  night.  Sleep  is  the  passing  of  the 
light  of  our  consciousness  into  the  twilight  of 
slumber,  and  finally  into  deep,  sound  sleep.  At 
night  the  light  of  day  without,  and  the  light  of 
self-consciousness  within,  set  in  darkness  and  un- 
consciousness. It  may  even  be  said  that  the 
more  absolutely  the  light  of  the  self-consciousness 
passed  out,  the  better  and  more  healthy  was 
sleep.  Not  to  know  anything  on  waking  of  the 
seven  hours  we  slept,  is  the  most  normal  opera- 
tion of  nature. 

In  paradise,  before  he  fell,  the  first  man  slept 
like  this.  So  the  young  child  still  sleeps  at 
mother's  breast.  So  the  weary  day-laborer  of 
little  intelligence  in  part  still  sleeps.  But  such 
sleep  is  no  longer  the  rule.  Our  sleep  is  all  too 
frequently  restless,  either  when  physical  causes  of 
sickness  or  excesses  disturb  it,  or  when  the  mind 
is  too  excited  to  allow  the  self-consciousness  to 
pass  into  entire  forgetfulness.  And  so  we  come  to 
dreams  or  to  half  or  entire  sleeplessness. 

Dreamlife  is  a  dark  domain  which  has  been  in- 
vestigated but  little.  It  is  enough  that  we  know 
what  anxiety  and  agony  it  can  occasion;  how  in 
sinful  imagination  it  can  soil  the  consciousness; 
how  prophecies  and  premonitions  sometimes  loom 
up  in  it;  and  also  how  God  has  used  it  more  than 
once  as  a  means  by  which  to  execute  his  holy 
Counsel. 

Next  to  dreamlife,  however,  and  more  distress- 
ing, is  the  woe  of  a  sleepless  night,  when  cares 
keep  the  heart  awake ;  when  the  mind  is  too  much 
on  a  tension;  when  a  task,  which  awaits  us  in  the 
morning  prevents  us  from  sleep,  or  when  sickness 


holds  back  the  passionately  longed-for  sleep  from 
our  eyes.  Sleeplessness  is  a  part  of  human  misery, 
which  is  foreign  to  younger  years,  but  which  in 
later  years  few  escape. 

As  in  good  prayer  the  mind  excludes  itself  from 
the  world,  but  is  the  more  clearly  awake  to  the 
higher  world  of  thought,  so  it  can  also  be  in  the 
dream  and  in  sleepless  slumber.  In  sleep  the  mind 
should  sink  away  in  forgetfulness,  but  on  the  con- 
trary it  lives  the  more  intensely  in  terrifying  or 
in  holy  dreams.  And  in  place  of  rest  the  mind 
finds  in  sleepless  slumber  only  a  greater  tension 
and  far  more  pressing  and  wearing  activity.  And 
the  Lord  is  also  in  this.  Asaph  expressed  it  with 
fervent  piety:  "Thou  holdest  mine  eyes  watch- 
ing." 

This  spiritual  recognition,  that  it  is  not  chance, 
but  the  Lord  who  holds  our  eyes  waking,  shows 
that  dreamlife  and  sleepless  slumber  serve  a  pur- 
pose. By  means  of  them  the  Lord  intends  to  do 
something;  and  when  at  night  the  heart  com- 
munes with  itself,  and  the  spirit  makes  diligent 
search,  this,  too,  is  a  part  of  our  life  for  which 
we  are  responsible.  Sin  consists  not  only  of 
words  and  deeds,  but  also  in  thoughts,  also  in 
what  goes  on  in  the  mind.  We  are  responsible 
even  for  our  dreams.  Not  for  what  happens  to 
us  in  our  dreams,  but  for  what  we  do  in  them. 
We  do  not  all  have  the  same  dreams.  Every  one 
dreams  according  to  the  content  of  his  imagina- 
tion. And  however  little  we  may  be  lord  and 
master  over  our  dreams,  every  one  feels,  that  in 
case  our  Savior  has  known  a  dreamlife,  it  can 
not  have  been  otherwise  than  perfectly  holy.  In 
the  night  itself  we  can  not  make  the  dream  dif- 

415 


ferent  from  what  it  is,  but  purifying  our  imagina- 
tion and  cleansing  our  thoughts  will  in  time  trans- 
port our  dreams  into  sinless  domains. 

Our  responsibility  for  what  our  mind  does  in 
sleepless  hours  of  night  is  of  necessity  far  greater. 
For  in  the  darkness  of  night  our  spirit  can  invite 
the  world,  or  it  can  meditate  and  ponder  on  holy 
things.  It  can  also  toss  itself  about  in  us  with- 
out will  and  without  aim.  What  our  spirit  then 
must  do  in  the  darkness,  is  to  open  the  door  to 
holy  things  and  dwell  in  a  higher  world.  Even 
when  in  the  midst  of  sleep  there  is  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  of  wakefulness  the  mind  can  and  should 
engage  itself  with  God.  The  first  thought  on 
awaking  must  be  again  of  God.  "0  God,  Thou 
art  my  God:  early  in  the  morning  will  I  seek 
Thee"  (Ps.  63:1  Dutch  version).  For  him  who 
so  understands  it,  sleepless  slumber  is  a  spiritual 
gold  mine. 

In  such  sleepless  nights  many  people  have  been 
wonderfully  enriched  in  spiritual  things.  Here 
also  is  Divine  mercy.  Sleeplessness  is  occasioned 
by  our  misery,  but  this  misery  also  God  by  his 
grace  transposes  into  supreme  mercifulness.  In 
such  nights  God  has  remembered  his  own  with 
such  spiritual  benefits  that  a  night  of  sleep  has 
sometimes  seemed  a  loss.  Divine  work  goes  on 
through  the  hours  of  night  in  the  souls  of  hia 
elect  in  a  way  that  glorifies  his  name. 

78 

"I  WAIT  FOR  THEE  ALL  THE  DAY 
LONG." 
The  Spirit,  with  the  Father  and  the  Son,  main- 
tains all  power,  and  causes  it  to  work  not  only  in 

416 


forest  and  wilderness  on  earth,  but  also  in  sun, 
moon  and  stars.  Wherever  there  is  a  creature, 
the  Spirit  operates  in  it.  Without  the  operation 
of  the  Spirit  no  force  of  nature  is  even  thinkable. 
And  this  spirit,  which  thus  operates  in  every 
creature,  is  none  other  than  the  Holy  Spirit,  who 
is  to  be  adored  in  the  Triune  Being  as  the  third 
most  holy  Person.  But  this  is  the  difference: 
This  Spirit  is  not  known  nor  worshipped  in  his 
holiness,  as  the  Holy  Spirit,  save  among  creatures 
who  are  themselves  spiritual  of  nature,  and  who 
have  become  conscious  of  their  spiritual  charac- 
ter. Above,  the  angels  of  God;  here  on  earth, 
the  children  of  men. 

A  star  in  the  firmament  is  brute  matter  and  has 
no  knowledge  of  holiness.  A  plant  is  without  any 
sense  of  it.  And  though  Scripture  attributes  a 
soul  to  an  animal,  and  though  it  has  certain 
intelligence  and  power  of  will,  an  animal  is  out- 
side of  the  sphere  in  which  the  holiness  of  the 
Lord  is  acknowledged.  The  connecting  sense  of 
the  holiness  of  the  Lord  is  found  here  on  earth 
in  man  alone.  Not  immediately  upon  birth.  The 
infant  in  the  cradle  lives  only  after  the  flesh.  It 
knows  nothing  as  yet  of  holy  sensations.  Only 
as  it  develops  and  matures,  this  sense  is  grad- 
ually awakened.  Even  then  it  often  takes  many 
long  years,  before  the  higher  moral  sense  of  the 
holinesses  of  God  awakens  sufficiently  for  the  con- 
science to  react  forcibly  against  the  unholinesses 
of  this  world. 

But  even  so,  it  is  all  as  yet  outside  of  the  holy 
sphere  of  our  Pentecost.  The  church  alone  knows 
the  grace  of  Pentecost.  It  is  the  holy  privilege 
of  the  ransomed  of  the  Lord.     The  world  does 

417 


not  know  this  grace  and  does  not  see  it.  It  ha3 
not  even  the  faintest  idea  of  what  this  grace 
might  be.  For  this  very  reason  it  should  be 
strongly  guarded  against,  that  on  the  ground  of 
this  privilege,  the  church  should  imagine  that  the 
Spirit  does  not  operate  in  this  as  yet  unregenerated 
world,  and  that  he  is  a  total  stranger  at  least  to 
the  forces  of  nature  in  the  material,  unconscious  , 
creation.  This  error  is  fundamental  among  those  j 
who  are  too  mystical  and  over-spiritual.  Hence  1 
it  must  every  time  be  confessed  again  and  brought 
to  mind:  The  Spirit  is  in  every  creature.  The 
Holy  Spirit  works  in  every  creature  of  rational 
life.  But  the  fellowship  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  which 
the  miracle  of  Pentecost  brings,  is  only  known 
and  tasted  in  the  church  of  Jesus  Christ. 

The  working  of  the  Spirit,  the  activity  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  and  the  fellowship  of  this  Holy  Spirit 
must  be  collected  in  this  mutual  relation  as  in 
one  bundle.  Or  else  the  child  of  God  mercilessly  j 
abandons  the  unconverted  world,  in  direct  con-  1 
flrct  with  the  prayer  of  the  Lord:  "I  pray  not 
that  Thou  shouldest  take  them  out  of  the  world, 
but  that  (in  the  world)  Thou  shouldest  keep  them 
from  the  evil"  (St.  John  17:15). 

And  now  the  second  point  which  should  be  care- 
fully considered.  On  the  day  of  Pentecost  the 
Holy  Spirit  was  poured  out  for  the  first  time  and 
once  for  all,  and  he  has  been  in  the  church  ever 
since,  never  to  leave  her  again,  but  to  dwell  in 
and  with  her  forever  more.  But  ....  and 
this  is  all  too  frequently  forgotten.  What  is  in 
the  church  is  therefore  by  no  means  yet  present 
in  everyone  that  is  counted  in  the  church.  The 
true   church   of  the   living   God  is  the  body   of 

418 


Christ,  the  mystical  body  of  which  he  is  the  Head ; 
and  in  this  mystical  body  the  Holy  Spirit  dwells, 
first  in  the  Head,  and  from  this  Head,  along  all 
articulations,  tissues  and  veins  inspires  every  one 
who  as  a  living  member  has  been  incorporated 
in  this  Body,  and  lives  in  connection  with  this 
Body.  It  is  not  an  individual  here  and  an  indi- 
vidual there,  who  each  by  himself  receives  the 
Holy  Ghost,  and  who  now  by  uniting  together 
constitute  the  Body  of  Christ.  A  body  does  not 
originate  in  such  a  way,  that  first  there  are  the 
members,  and  that  afterward  these  individual 
members  are  joined  together  into  a  body.  The 
body  is  conceived  and  born  with  the  crust  and 
with  the  beginnings  in  it  of  every  member  that 
later  on  is  to  come  out  from  it.  Even  the  beard, 
which  only  covers  the  chin  in  later  years,  is  not 
brought  to  it  from  without,  but  grows  from  a 
germ  which  the  infant  at  birth  brought  with  it. 
And  in  this  body  is  the  life.  Not  in  one  member 
by  itself.  An  amputated  leg  is  dead.  Even  an 
arm  that  is  still  joined  to  the  body  can  be  ren- 
dered as  good  as  dead,  and  only  becomes  alive 
again  when  from  the  body  the  blood  flows  into  it. 
And  so  it  is  with  the  Body  of  the  Lord,  which 
is  the  Congregation  of  the  Saints.  The  head  of 
that  Body  can  not  be  touched.  Christ  is  in 
glory.  The  Holy  Spirit  never  departs  from  Him. 
And  while  Christ  as  the  Head  is  inseparable  from 
that  Body,  the  Holy  Spirit,  the  life  of  the  Church, 
is  always  insured  and  guaranteed  in  that  Sacred 
Head.  However  nearly  hfe  may  be  extinct  at  a 
given  moment  in  the  members  of  the  Body,  it 
flows  with  irresistible  pressure  from  the  Head  to 
the  members  again.    And  even  presently  exercises 

419 


that  wonderfully  assimilating  power  again  which 
shows  itself  so  gloriously  in  every  reveille.  Of 
course,  this  Body  is  not  identical  with  the  visible 
church.  But  the  visible  church  also  is  not  alive 
save  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  who,  flowing  out  from 
the  Head  of  the  invisible  Body  of  the  Lord,  keeps 
the  church  alive  so  long  as  she  does  not  cut  the 
vital  connection  with  the  invisible  Body. 

And  this  is  the  effect  of  this  indwelling  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  in  the  church  that  he  who  is  con- 
nected with  this  church  in  an  organic,  spiritual 
way,  knows  and  tastes  a  fellowship  with  the  Triune 
Being,  such  as  is  not  possible  outside  of  it.  There 
is,  indeed,  a  certain  sense  of  the  existence  of  God 
among  the  unconverted.  Also  a  certain  feeling 
of  dependence  upon  a  higher  Power.  The  voice 
of  conscience  is  also  heard  in  their  hearts.  When 
advanced  in  years,  they  frequently  think  of  what 
is  to  come  after  death.  But  not  with  all.  Far 
from  it.  It  can  not  be  denied  that  the  number 
of  those  who  have  no  more  concern  about  God 
than  about  their  sin  and  about  their  future  after 
death  is  steadily  on  the  increase. 

But  this  does  not  deny  that  in  Christian  as 
well  as  in  heathen  lands  there  are  always  many 
people  who  still  hold  a  certain  general  religious- 
ness in  honor.  But  what  these  people  altogether 
miss  is  not  the  working  of  the  conscience,  but 
fellowship  with  the  Holy  Ghost.  And  fellow- 
ship with  the  Holy  Ghost  is,  of  course,  nothing 
else  than  fellowship  with  God  himself.  Not  the 
fellowship  of  the  flock  with  the  Shepherd,  not 
outward  submission  to  the  appointments  of  God 
in  our  lot  of  life,  not  an  all-sided  dependence 
upon  God,  but  fellowship  with  God  in  the  sense 

420 


of  the  immediate  meeting  of  the  Ego  of  God  and 
the  ego  of  the  heart  in  the  mysticism  of  grace. 

We  have  heard  of  the  holy  Apostle,  and  in 
reading  his  Epistles  we  have  a  certain  fellowship 
with  the  Man  of  Tarsus.  But  it  would  be  some- 
thing entirely  different  if  we  lived  with  St.  Paul 
for  a  whole  year.  This  difference  applies  here. 
You  may  have  heard  of  God,  of  his  wondrous 
deeds,  of  his  virtues,  of  his  powers,  and  God  may 
still  be  a  stranger  to  you.  But  fellowship  with 
the  Spirit  allows  the  soul  to  meet  God  personally, 
to  learn  to  know  God  personally,  to  associate  with 
the  Eternal  Being  personally,  and  even  as  a  child 
with  his  father  to  hold  converse  with  the  Triune 
God. 

This  is  what  waiting  on  the  Lord  brings  you. 
A  friend  meets  friend  and  presently  they  part 
again.  But  a  child  waits  for  his  father  because  he 
belongs  with  him  and  misses  him  when  he  is  away. 
And  so  it  is  in  this  fellowship  with  God  through 
the  Holy  Ghost.  He  who  has  come  to  know  God 
personally  as  his  Father  and  has  been  initiated  in 
his  secret  fellowship,  can  not  therefore  always 
continue  therein.  The  many  activities  of  daily 
life  do  not  allow  it.  The  distractions  of  the  world 
prevent  it.  We  cut  it  off  continually  by  sinful 
suggestions  from  our  impure  heart.  And  then  the 
Lord  frequently  withdraws  this  fellowship  from  us 
in  order  to  stimulate  anew  and  make  stronger  the 
desire  after  it.  But,  and  this  is  the  chararcteristic, 
a  child  of  God,  who  first  enjoyed  this  fellowship, 
and  lost  it,  misses  it,  he  feels  the  need  of  it,  and 
has  no  rest  till  it  is  found  again;  even  on  waking 
from  sleep  in  the  morning,  the  first  impulse  is  to 
obtain  this  fellowship  again. 

421 


Of  two  things  one:  either  the  child  of  God  has 
this  fellowship,  or  he  longs  for  it,  he  prays  for  it, 
he  waits  for  it  all  the  day  long  (Ps.  25:5  Dutch 
version).  In  conversion  it  is  a  seeking  for  what 
was  not  as  yet  possessed.  Afterward  it  is  a  seek- 
ing back  what  has  been  lost.  And  here  also  it 
apphes:  ''He  that  seeks,  shall  find;  he  that 
knocks,  it  shall  be  opened  unto  him." 


''0  GOD,  MY  GOD." 

The  flower-bud  of  prayer  unfolds  slowly  in  the 
soul  of  a  child.  Not  that  there  is  no  certain 
sacred  inclination  to  pray  in  the  heart  at  a  very 
early  age.  But  while  the  bud  is  early  set,  the 
question  is  when  it  will  blossom.  For  many 
months  the  young  child  was  present  when  mother 
prayed,  but  had  no  understanding  of  it,  and  not 
infrequently  disturbed  mother's  prayer  by  crying. 
But  at  last  the  moment  arrives  when  for  the  first 
time  in  prayer  it  undergoes  a  peculiar  sensation 
and  is  impressed  by  what  is  holy.  Tender  mother 
piety  tries  to  confirm  this  impression.  And  before 
long  the  child  kneels  down  when  mother  kneels, 
and  when  he  is  put  to  bed  the  first  efforts  are 
made  to  teach  him  to  pray  himself.  Then  mother 
folds  the  little  hands,  closes  the  eyes  and  says  a 
simple  prayer.  Ten,  twelve  words.  And  the  dear 
little  one  brokenly  repeats  them  after  her. 

Here  the  form  is  ahead  of  the  reality.  The 
impression  of  reverence  and  awe  before  the  Divine 
Majesty  is  there.  A  young  child  loves  that  first 
praj^er.  But  the  Eternal  has  not  yet  revealed  him- 
self  in   a   clearly   conscious   form    to   the   heart. 

422 


Hence  a  young  child  learns  prayer  to  Jesus  more 
quickly  than  direct  prayer  to  the  Most  High 
God.  He  does  not  express  in  his  little  prayer 
anything  original.  He  only  repeats  something, 
and  when  he  first  weaves  something  into  his 
prayer  himself,  it  is  not  worship,  but  the  request 
for  something  that  employs  his  childish  attention. 
It  is  all,  however,  a  speaking  into  an  unknown 
Holy  sphere  that  is  above  or  around  his  little 
bed.  It  is  all  along  the  line  of  a  steady  but  slow 
development,  and  prayer  from  his  own  impulse 
to  a  God  who  is  to  be  personally  addressed,  and 
who,  at  least  in  a  limited  way,  is  personally 
known,  is  little  seen,  as  a  rule,  before  the  tenth 
year.  There  are  exceptions  with  children  of  five, 
six  or  seven  years  of  age,  especially  when  they 
die  young.  Ordinarily,  however,  the  fuller  un- 
folding of  the  flower-bud  into  an  own,  personal 
and  conscious  prayer,  does  not  come  much  before 
the  twelfth  year.  Such  is  more  apt  to  be  the 
case,  when  back  of  the  tenth  and  twelfth  year 
there  was  a  period  of  three  or  more  unfavorable 
years,  in  which  the  child  was  obliged  to  sit  still 
during  long  devotions,  and  when  motherly  tender- 
ness of  teaching  prayer  involuntarily  turned  into 
a  purely  formal  compulsion  of  keeping  eyes  closed 
and  hands  folded. 

What  God  himself  performed  in  the  child's 
soul  during  those  early  years  the  holy  angels 
know,  but  we  do  not.  Only  in  the  end  the  result 
becomes  evident  to  us.  And  this  begins  to  show 
itself  about  the  twelfth  year.  At  that  age  it  be- 
comes evident  whether  a  spiritual  sense  is  awak- 
ened in  the  heart,  or  whether  indifference,  if  not 
aversion  to  holy  things  has  risen.     If  a  spiritual 

423 


disposition  of  heart  shows  itself,  it  is  about  at 
this  age  that  God  himself  takes  mother's  task  in 
hand,  and  allures  the  lad  or  the  young  girl  into  a 
first  personal  prayer,  which  is  born  from  an  own 
impulse. 

But  from  this  on  to  the  moment  in  which  the 
soul  cries  out:  "O  God,  my  God,"  the  way  is 
long.  Generally  the  kindly,  tender  brightness  of 
childhood  prayer  is  not  a  little  darkened  when 
the  years  of  maturity  are  reached.  From  all  sorts 
of  books  and  conversations  an  entirely  different 
world  of  thoughts  has  entered  into  the  conscious- 
ness, which,  compared  with  the  poetry  of  the  life 
of  prayer,  either  appears  bitterly  prosaic,  or  if  it 
glistens  in  a  choice  collection  of  ideals,  which  may 
encourage  the  cultivation  of  plans  and  intentions 
and  expectations,  it  does  not  focus  them  in  the 
worship  of  an  Eternal,  glorious  Being. 

These  two  currents,  the  current  of  the  practical 
and  ideal  life  in  its  multiplicity,  and  the  unity 
of  our  life  as  it  is  focussed  in  prayer,  antagonize 
one  another,  and  in  this  antagonism  sometimes 
prayer  is  forever  lost.  There  are  those,  alas,  who 
were  spiritual  in  childhood,  and  who  in  adult 
years  have  entirely  unlearned  the  art  of  prayer. 
It  also  happens  that  prayer  continues  to  be  made 
and  increases  in  seriousness  and  depth,  but  that 
the  world  is  not  brought  into  allignment  with  it, 
and  the  life  of  the  world  remains  unreconciled 
by  the  side  of  it,  until  the  soul  is  more  and  more 
overcome  by  an  oftentimes  sickly  mysticism  or 
by  an  overexcited  spiritualism.  But  in  the  ordi- 
nary way  of  piety  this  period  of  struggle  is  fol- 
lowed  by   a   period   of   spiritual   fixedness.     The 

424 


relation  between  the  life  of  the  soul  and  life  in 
the  world  has  then  been  regulated.  The  little 
boat  no  longer  drifts  with  the  caprice  of  wind  and 
w^ave-beat.  A  rudder  has  been  provided,  a  com- 
pass has  been  taken  aboard,  the  lee-boards  can 
be  let  down  sideways.  And  thus  the  soul  can 
direct  its  own  course  as  it  rides  the  waters  of  the 
sea  of  life.  Heroic  devotion  to  one's  task  in  life 
goes  hand  in  hand  with  an  ever  richer  develop- 
ment of  the  life  of  prayer. 

The  sphere  of  the  life  of  prayer  and  the  sphere 
of  one's  calling  in  life  begin  more  and  more  to 
cover  one  another.  Moments  of  true  prayer  mul- 
tiply themselves,  by  as  much  as  in  the  work  itself, 
the  elevation  of  soul  to  God  becomes  more  fre- 
quent, and  ejaculatory  prayer  occurs  more  often, 
until  at  length  a  prayerful  disposition  of  the  soul 
becomes  more  and  more  habitual.  On  the  other 
hand,  secret  praj^er  is  more  and  more  introduced 
into  the  daily  task,  and  it  is  felt  that  prayer  is 
not  bound  to  single  holy  utterances,  but  that  our 
whole  existence  with  all  its  needs  may  be  com- 
mitted to  God  and  may  be  sanctified  in  him. 
Thus  prayer  grows  in  significance  and  begins,  to 
cast  its  benign  shade  over  our  entire  life,  and  so 
increasingly  becomes  the  strength  of  our  life. 
"Fervent  prayer  is  half  the  work,"  is  first  mechan- 
ically quoted,  but  afterwards  becomes  blessed  ex- 
perience. And  the  moment  draws  nigh  when 
finally  the  "0  God,  my  God"  becomes  the  clear, 
pure  expression  of  what  the  inner  life  of  the  soul 
experiences  and  enjoys  in  its  innermost  and  holy 
emotions. 

If  it  should  come  to  the  lips  too  readily,  this 
''O    God    my    God"    (Ps.    43:4)    would   be    gross 


egotism,  and  coveteous  selfishness, 
tuous  claim  of  God  for  oneself.  ''My  God"  with 
no  thought  of  others.  This  sin  in  prayer  is  won- 
drously  overcome  in  the  "Our  Father."  This 
alway  prays:  Not  give  me,  but  give  us  our  daily 
bread;  not  forgive  me,  but  forgive  us  our  debts j 
not  deliver  me,  but  deliver  us  from  evil.  We 
never  stand  before  God  alone,  but  always  in  the 
fellowship  of  love  with  all  God's  saints.  Hence  we 
must  pray  as  a  member  of  the  Body  of  Christ,  and 
not  as  one  who  stands  by  himself  alone.  But  the 
"0  God  my  God"  does  not  antagonize  this  in  any 
particular.  It  aims  at  something  entirely  dif- 
ferent. It  springs  from  the  altogether  different 
idea  that  God  cares  not  merely  for  all  his  chil- 
dren, as  a  king  watches  over  his  million  subjects, 
but  that  the  Ejng  of  Kings  has  this  advantage 
over  all  the  princes  of  the  earth,  that  he  knows 
all  his  children  personally,  that  he  understands 
them  thoroughly,  that  he  sustains  a  peculiar  rela- 
tion to  each  of  them,  that  he  has  given  each  a 
calling  of  his  own,  that  he  has  apportioned  each 
a  separate  task,  that  he  trains  each  for  a  particu- 
lar destiny  in  eternit}^  and  that  therefore  he  not 
merely  sustains  a  general  relation  to  all,  but  that 
in  addition  to  this,  he  stands  in  a  particular  rela- 
tion with  each  of  them.  This  relation  is  so  per- 
sonal, that  it  is  never  the  same  with  any  one  else. 
He  is  Our  Father,  but  as  a  father  of  seven  chil- 
dren is  the  father  of  all,  and  yet  distinguishes  be- 
tween them,  and  adapts  himself  to  each  one, 
according  to  his  nature,  disposition  and  character, 
so  the  Lord  our  God  is  Father  of  all,  and  yet 
Father  in  a  special  sense  of  each  of  us,  in  a 
special  manner,  drawing  near  to  us  in  a  mystical 

426 


way,  and  revealing  himself  to  us  in  mystical 
sensations  which  have  a  character  of  their  own 
and  bear  an  original  stamp.  He  knows  us  and 
we  are  known  of  him,  such  as  is  not  possible  with 
another  person  who  is  differently  constituted  than 
ourselves.  He  is  the  "One  Sun,"  which  glistens 
differently  in  every  dew-drop.  Only  this,  the  dew- 
drop  does  not  know  it.  God's  child  can  know  it. 
And  when  this  knowledge  comes  to  him,  he  kneels 
ciown   before  "God  his   God." 

Distinguish  carefully.  From  God's  side  this 
peculiar  relation,  which  is  different  with  each  of 
his  children,  existed  from  the  moment  of  concep- 
tion and  of  birth;  yea,  already  before  conception 
in  the  calling  of  the  elect  from  eternity.  The 
difference  lies  only  on  our  side.  Years  of  our  life 
pass  by  when  we  indeed  know  God,  and  lead  a 
praj^er-life  before  his  face,  but  only  in  a  general 
sense,  which  is  still  weaned  from  the  particular. 
We  pra}'  as  others  pray.  We  are  one  of  God's 
children,  but  we  are  not  yet  discovered  to  our- 
selves as  one  such,  in  whom  something  special  of 
the  Father  is  expressed.  But  from  the  general 
gradually  the  particular  separates  itself.  That 
which  imparts  to  us  a  character  of  our  own,  which 
gives  us  our  own  'calling  and  makes  us  to  be  a 
particular  person,  begins  to  enter  into  special 
fellowship  with  the  Lord  our  God.  And  now  it  is 
the  unsearchable  riches  of  our  God,  that  he,  who 
created  and  elected  every  one  of  his  children  with 
a  particular  disposition  and  with  a  proper  calling, 
will  be  and  can  be  that  special  God  to  every  one 
of  them  as  belongs  to  their  nature  and  condition. 
Not  a  general  fulfilment  for  all  alike,  but  for 
every  one  of  them  that  special  fulfilment  which 

427 


he  needs.  Not  only  the  most-special  Providence, 
but  also  the  most  special  self-revelation  of  his 
Divine  Majesty  in  the  mirror  of  the  life  of  each 
soul.  And  when  it  comes  to  this,  but  also  only 
then,  there  rises  from  the  heart  of  itself  spon- 
taneously the  jubilant  exclamation  of  worship: 
^'0  God  my  God." 

80 

"THE  LORD  IS  THY  SHADE." 

Not  only  the  child,  but  also  he  who  is  older, 
would  rather  look  at  pictures  and  prints,  than 
read;  or  in  reading,  at  least,  would  like  assistance 
for  his  representation.  Hence  the  preference  of 
our  fathers  for  illustrated  Bibles,  and  the  new 
demand  for  books  and  periodicals  with  illustra- 
tions. For  a  long  time  there  was  little  love  for 
illustrated  books,  partly  because  the  plates  were 
poor  and  partly  because  the  readers  were  over- 
wise.  But  since  we  have  become  a  little  more 
natural,  and  photography  and  photo-engraving  in 
less  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  have  improved 
the  illustration  to  unknown  fineness  and  beauty, 
the  old  love  for  seeing  is  revived  again,  and  by 
looking  at  pictures,  our  representation  has  been 
uncommonly  enriched.  And  now  everything  is 
embellished  with  illustrations  in  a  good  way  and 
in  a  sinful  way.  The  power  in  letting  things  be 
seen  is  recognized  again.  Even  newspapers  seek 
strength  in  this.  At  present  it  is  still  the  picture 
with  the  Word.  Gradually  it  will  become  ever 
more  picture  and  ever  less  Word,  until  in  the 
end  exaggeration  will  avenge  itself  and  the  more 
just  relation  will  return. 

428 


The  main  point  with  it  all  is,  that  our  nature 
has  been  so  created  and  disposed,  that  it  prefers 
immediate  sight.  And  that  it  carries  this  even  into 
the  spiritual  desire  to  see,  rather  than  to  arrive 
at  insight  by  exercise  of  thought,  is  not  a  defect 
in  us,  neither  is  it  a  result  of  sin,  but  a  Divine 
instinct.  Of  the  heavenly  glory  it  is  not  prophe- 
sied that  the  redeemed  will  be  subtle  thinkers, 
but  that  they  manifest  themselves  as  children  of 
God  in  this  particular  also,  that  they  desire  to  see 
the  Eternal  Being,  and  that  they  surely  shall  enj  oy 
this  clear,  beatific  vision. 

Philip's  request:  ''Lord,  show  us  the  Father, 
and  it  sufficeth  us,"  v.'as  but  the  naive  expression 
of  this  deep  desire,  and  Jesus'  answer  to  this 
question  shows,  that  the  entire  Christian  reUgion 
can  be  capitulated  under  this  viewpoint  of  sight. 
The  Apostles  gloried  in  the  fact  that  they  had 
seen  and  beheld  the  Word  of  life.  In  prophecy 
the  vision  had  prepared  the  way  for  this  seeing. 
And  when  the  apostles  portray  the  glory  that  is 
to  come,  they  prophesy  that  now  we  see  as  in  a 
glass  darkly,  but  that  then  we  shall  see  face  to 
face,  and  that  in  this  seeing  we  shall  know  even 
as  WG  are  known.  Not  reading,  not  reasoning,  no, 
but  seeing,  and  clear  vision  shall  constitute  heav- 
enly bliss.  And  John  adds:  "Beloved,  it  is  not 
yet  made  manifest  what  we  shall  be,  but  we 
know  ....  that  we  shall  be  like  him;  for 
we  shall  see  him  even  as  he  is."  This  seeing  is 
cultivated  by  picture  and  print,  and  seeing  spiritual 
things  is  aided  by  the  emblem —  The  Cross,  the 
All-seeing  eye,  the  emblems  of  faith,  hope  and 
love,  The  catacombs  of  the  early  Christians  are 
full  of  such  emblems. 

429 


That  nature,  and  life  itself,  is  full  of  imagery, 
is  of  still  greater  significance.  The  Bible,  more 
than  any  other  book,  employs  it,  by  which  to 
show  us  the  spiritual.  Apart  from  picture  and 
print,  and  aside  from  the  emblem,  it  is  this 
imagery  which  does  not  stand  by  the  side  of  the 
Word,  but  enters  into  the  Word,  and  shows  things 
through  the  Word  itself.  The  true  vine,  the  good 
shepherd,  the  Lamb  of  God,  the  sower  who  sows 
the  seed,  and  so  much  more,  it  is  all  imagery 
borrowed  from  nature  and  from  life,  which  God 
employs  in  his  Word,  by  which  to  bring  the 
spiritual  nearer  to  us  in  greater  clearness. 

The  Scripture  does  the  same  thing  with  respect 
to  the  Most  Highest,  whereby  to  bring  the  view 
of  the  Eternal  Being  closer  to  us.  This  Eternal 
Being  comes  near  to  us  in  the  imagery  of:  The 
Lord  is  our  Rock,  the  Lord  is  our  High  Tower. 
He  is  our  Shield.  He  is  our  Keeper.  He  is  the 
Father  in  the  house  of  the  many  mansions.  He 
is  our  King,  seated  upon  the  throne  of  his  glory. 
And  among  these  images  is  also  this  beautiful 
one:  "The  Lord  is  thy  Shade"  (Psalm  121:5). 
Isaiah  uses  it  when  on  his  knees  in  worship  he 
exclaims:  "0  Lord,  Thou  art  my  God,  .  -  .  . 
Thou  hast  been  a  strength  to  the  poor,  ...  a 
refuge  from  the  storm,  a  shadow  from  the  heat, 
for  as  heat  through  a  thick  cloud,  so  Thou  shalt 
bring  down  the  noise  of  tyrants"  (Is.  25.  Dutch 
version).  And  likewise  reads  the  song  of 
Hamaaloth:  "The  Lord  is  thy  keeper:  the  Lord 
is  thy  shade  upon  thy  right  hand"  (Ps.  121:5). 

This  figure  of  speech  is  beautiful  because  it  is 
gentle  and  tender.  It  is  not  a  revelation  of  power. 
No  strong  arm  here  bares  itself.    There  is  scorch- 

430 


ing  heat  such  as  in  the  desert  of  the  East  can 
prostrate  life.  And  see,  quietly  and  with  majesty, 
a  thick  cloud  passes  over  the  desert  levels,  and 
sunlight  no  more  blinds,  and  sunheat  no  more 
burns,  and  the  traveler  breathes  again,  refreshed  and 
restored  by  the  Divine  shadow  from  above.  Shade  I 
We  sons  of  the  West  do  not  know  the  glory  of 
this  short  word  to  the  man  in  the  East.  With 
the  exception  of  dog-days,  the  sun  is  no  fierce 
tyrant  to  us,  to  make  life  a  burden.  To  us  the 
sun  is  a  lovely  something,  which  we  seek.  The 
sun  refreshes  and  cherishes  us.  We  love  his  light. 
But  in  the  land  where  prophets  prophesied  and 
psalmists  sang,  where  Jesus  walked  about  with  his 
disciples,  everyone  seeks  by  means  of  thick  walls, 
heavy  hangings,  high  trees  and  long  white  gar- 
ments, to  escape  the  fierce  tyranny  of  the  sun.  In 
hot  seasons  everything  there  burns,  glows,  and  is 
scorched.  And  in  level  deserts  man  and  beast 
are  helplessly  surrendered  to  the  heat  of  the  sand 
and  the  scorching  rays  from  above.  Everything 
calls  and  prays  for  shade.  And  all  this,  applied 
by  metaphor  to  the  struggle  of.  God's  people,  and 
to  the  battle  of  life  of  his  servants,  inspired  both 
prophet  and  Psalmist  to  refresh  Israel  with  the 
glorious  word  of  comfort:  The  Lord  thy  God 
is  thy  Shade! 

Thy  shade  against  what?  Against  the  heat  of 
the  day  metaphorically  descriptive  of  the  burden 
of  the  daily  task,  of  the  heat  and  fierceness  with 
which  startling  opposition,  adversity  and  perse- 
cution overtake  you.  The,  Lord  is  thy  Shade  is 
allied  with  the  other  image:  the  Lord  is  thj- 
Shield,  but  has  another  tendency.  When  you 
have  to  do  with  an  enemy,  a  persecutor,  whom 

431 


3^ou  know,  whom  you  see  before  you,  and  whose 
assault  is  upon  you,  you  need  a  shield,  and  he 
who  in  such  threatening  moments  has  sought  his 
shield  with  God,  has  always  found  it  there.  But 
it  is  entirely  different  when  heat  brings  burnings 
which  can  not  be  grasped,  which  from  the  mys- 
terious background  of  our  lot  in  life,  from  covert 
opposition,  as  an  elementary  force  press  them- 
selves upon  us  from  all  sides,  and  make  us  dis- 
tressed, and  which  we  can  not  resist.  Such  is  the 
case  with  the  Arab  in  the  desert,  when  the  heat 
of  the  sun  makes  the  sand  burn  under  his  feet 
and  the  roof  of  his  mouth  to  be  parched.  And 
so  it  is  with  the  people  of  God,  when  opposition 
arises  on  every  hand,  when  here  it  is  water  that 
threatens  inundation,  and  there  it  is  the  whirl- 
wind that  carries  everything  before  it.  And  so  it 
is  in  the  personal  life  when  because  of  the  will  of 
God,  and  for  his  sake,  one  trouble  brings  another, 
and  one  is  driven  from  trial  to  trial,  and  the  heat 
of  battle  steadily  grows  in  strength  and  at  length 
you  have  to  succumb. 

And  in  such  an  hour  when,  as  we  would  say, 
the  water  comes  up  to  the  lips,  but  which  makes 
the  Scripture,  which  is  Eastern  in  its  imagery, 
speak  of  a  scorching  heat  from  the  sun  which 
threatens  utter  prostration,  then  the  Lord  is  the 
Comforter,  since  he  is  then  your  shade  which 
covers  you,  and  makes  you  breathe  again.  In 
accordance  with  the  sacred  imagery  this  can  be 
done  by  means  of  a  cloud  which  intercepts  the 
heat  of  the  glowing  swn,  but  it  can  also  be  done 
in  a  more  tender  way.  In  the  desert  a  father  may 
take  the  side  of  the  sun  and  so  make  himself  a 
shade   for  his  child   that  walks  with   him.     And 

432 


this  is  what  the  Psalmist  suggests,  when  he  sings: 
''The  Lord  is  thy  shade  upon  thy  right  hand." 
And  thus  the  Divine  tenderness  of  highest  love 
mingles  itself  in  the  comforting. 

God  leaves  you  not  alone.  The  journey  through 
the  wilderness  can  not  be  spared  you.  The  heat 
must  burn.  But  the  Lord  looks  after  you.  He 
comes  to  you.  His  approach  to  you  is  very  close. 
He  takes  a  stand  between  the  heat  of  the  sun  and 
you.  He  takes  you  by  the  hand.  He  covers  you 
with  the  shade  of  his  majestic  greatness.  And  so 
you  go  on  your  way  rejoicing,  refreshed  by  God's 
love  and  covered  by  his  holy  shade. 

All  this  is  poetry.  We  know  it  well.  But 
though  it  be  such,  this  does  not  make  it  fiction. 
There  is  that  which  no  eye  has  seen  and  no  ear 
has  heard  and  has  not  entered  the  heart  of  man, 
but  which,  already,  here  God  gives  to  be  under- 
stood, to  be  seen  and  to  be  enjoyed  by  those  who 
have  been  initiated  into  his  secret  walk.  God  can 
be  far  removed  from  us.  He  can  also  be  close  at 
hand.  This  depends  on  his  grace.  This  depends 
upon  the  inward  condition  of  the  soul.  This  much 
is  certain,  that  when  he  is  close  at  hand  and  the 
heat  of  the  day  threatens  to  bring  prostration,  then 
he  is  your  shade,  and  you  feel  the  cool  of  it  on 
your  right  hand.  The  cooling  effect  which  the 
shade  of  God  brings,  must  be  felt.  It  must  be 
felt  in  the  soul.  And  if  you  do  not  feel  it,  may 
it  not  be  because  you  are  not  near  unto  God? 

81 

"HE  INCLINES  HIS  EAR  UNTO  ME." 
The  ear  is  inclined  toward  someone,  either  when 
our  hearing  is  impaired,  or  when  he  to  whom  we 

433 


listen  has  a  weak  voice,  or  when  the  distance  is 
too  great  that  separates  him  from  us.  The  first 
is  impossible  with  God.  How  should  he,  who  has 
planted  the  ear,  not  hear;  how  should  he  who  has 
created  sound,  and  the  hearing  of  it,  not  hear  all 
creaturely  sound?  Hence,  when  it  is  said  of  God, 
that  he  inclines  his  ear  to  our  prayer,  it  always 
means  a  grace  to  usward,  an  act  of  Divine  com- 
passion, whereby  the  Majesty  in  the  heavens 
adapts  himself  to  us,  bows  Himself  down  to  us, 
and  seeking,  meets  us  in  the  way. 

True  prayer  is  always  clothed  with  deep 
humility.  There  are  all  sorts  of  prayers.  Prayer 
that  is  said;  words  that  are  muttered  thought- 
lessly; prayer  because  the  stated  hour  has  struck; 
prayer  from  sense  of  duty;  prayer  born  from 
need;  prayer  from  deep  longing  after  God; 
prayer  for  higher,  heavenly  strength;  prayer  from 
gladness  in  happy  thankfulness;  prayer  for  one- 
self; prayer  for  others;  prayer  when  on2  is  alone; 
prayer  with  others;  spoken  prayer;  silent  prayer; 
— the  form  always  changes,  and  each  has  its  own 
value.  But  in  all  true  prayer,  in  which  one  can 
not  rest  until  he  knows  that  God  listens  to  his 
prayer,  the  soul  feels  small,  the  person  is  con- 
scious of  weakness,  and  in  his  own  estimation  he 
is  as  nothing,  and  less  than  nothing,  before  the 
Triune  God,  and  self  is  effaced  in  order  that  God 
may  draw  us  up  to  himself,  that  the  heart  may 
be  lifted  up,  and  that  we  msiy  have  freedom  of 
utterance. 

What  is  the  world  compared  with  the  firma- 
ment, and  what  are  we  who  pray,  compared  with 
the  world  in  which  we  are  one  of  more  than  a 

434 


thousand  millions  of  living  souls?  There  are  a  few 
mighty  ones  who  feel,  and  must  feel,  that  they 
are  great  in  the  world.  Think  of  a  Napoleon,  or 
of  a  Bismarck.  But  there  is  nothing  of  this  in 
the  ordinary  man  who  prays,  whose  name  is 
scarcely  known  outside  of  his  village  or  town. 
The  mighty  ones  on  earth  have  their  own  account 
with  God.  We  can  not  reckon  with  them  here. 
We  deal  here  with  the  ordinary  worshipper  who 
is  scarcely  known  outside  of  his  own  little  circle. 
And  what  is  such  an  one,  if  he  bends  his  knees 
before  the  Most  High  God,  the  Almighty  Creator, 
who  maintains  and  governs  this  little  world,  and 
the  many  thousand  suns  and  stars  which  sparkle 
and  shine  in  the  heavens  that  endlessly  spread 
themselves  above  us? 

In  all  true  prayer,  therefore,  i.  e.  with  such 
prayer  with  which  in  some  measure  at  least  the 
soul  thinks  of  the  majesty  and  greatness  of  God, 
he  who  prays  can  never  be  anything  else  than  a 
nothing  in  his  own  esteem,  and  be  deeply  con- 
scious that  his  prayer  is  but  a  passing  breath, 
unless  it  pleases  the  Lord  to  incline  his  ear  unto  it. 

This  need  springs  from  the  insignificance  of  the 
human  voice,  from  the  immeasurable  distance,  and 
more  still  from  the  indispensableness  of  personal 
inclination  to  him  who  prays.  When  we  would 
have  prayer  pierce  the  heavens,  our  voice  is  so 
much  the  acme  of  weakness,  that  it  makes  no  dif- 
ference whether  a  leader  in  the  house  of  prayer 
raises  his  voice  so  as  to  make  it  resound  through 
the  arches,  or  whether  a  sick  man  on  his  bed 
breathlessly  whispers  his  low  prayer  to  God.  Even 
where  no  sound  of  voice  is  heard  at  all,  the  silent 

435 


prayer  must  be  breathed  from  the  soul.  The  voice 
here  avails  nothing.  We  can  compel  a  hearing 
with  men  by  speaking  more  loudly  and  boldly; 
but  when  we  would  speak  to  "our  Father  in 
heaven"  the  voice  loses  absolutely  all  significance. 
Then  the  stentorian  voice  of  the  orator  has  no 
advantage  whatever  over  the  weakest  voice  of  a 
child.  And  whether  the  shipwrecked  man  in  his 
extremity  cries  out  his  "0  God,  help  me"  in  the 
face  of  the  howling  tempest,  it  is  all  the  same. 
Whether  strong  or  weak,  our  voice  avails  nothing 
here.  The  bleating  of  the  lost  sheep  can  make  the 
shepherd  hear.  Our  voice  can  never  move  God 
to  hear  us. 

The  voice  in  prayer  is  for  our  own  sake  and  for 
the  sake  of  those  who  pray  with  us.  Even  on  our 
knees  in  solitude  we  feel  impelled  to  express  our 
prayer  in  words.  Clearness  only  comes  into  our 
prayer  by  the  means  of  words.  It  brings  relief, 
it  unburdens  the  soul.  The  undulation  of  sensa- 
tions within  comes  to  rest  in  the  whispered  or 
spoken  word  of  prayer.  A  prayer  without  words 
can  cry  out  from  the  soul  after  God,  but  that 
takes  place  instinctively  and  we  do  not  even  call 
that  prayer.  Real  prayer  goes  through  our  con- 
sciousness. He  who  prays  must  know  what  he 
wants  to  pray  for.  Hjs  memory  must  be  active. 
He  must  think  of  the  needs,  for  which  he  prays. 
He  must  know  the  mercies  for  which  he  gives 
thanks.  He  must  be  fully  aware  of  the  task  in 
behalf  of  which  he  invokes  Divine  help.  From 
the  mysticism  of  the  heart  the  praying  soul  must 
come  to  be  clearly  conscious,  and  this  comes  to 
pass  in  the  word  and  through  the  voice,  and  this 
makes  prayer  perfect.    This  shows  itself  still  more 

436 


strongly  in  prayer  with  others.  Then  the  voice 
is  the  instrument  which  brings  the  prayer  of  him 
who  prays  to  the  soul  of  those  who  pray  with 
him.  He  who  leads  in  prayer  must  be  like  him 
that  plays  the  keys  of  the  organ.  His  soul  plays. 
The  soul  of  the  others  must  sound  with  his.  And 
thus  there  is  common  prayer;  a  special  grace 
imparted  to  us  by  God. 

Then  comes  the  distance.  When  we  want  to 
ask  some  one  across  a  stream  or  lake  for  some- 
thing, we  naturally  raise  our  voice,  and  it  helps 
us  when  he  on  the  other  side  turns  his  ear  toward 
us,  and  by  his  hand  back  of  it  shows  that  he 
listens,  and  tries  to  understand  our  call.  And 
what  broad  waters  flow  between  us  and  God,  when 
we  want  to  call  on  him.  The  whole  world  lies 
between  and  all  the  absorbing  interests  of  life, 
and  the  immeasurable  distance  to  the  heaven  of 
heavens,  where  the  Lord  is  enthroned  in  ever- 
lasting light. 

Our  Savior  commanded  us  not  to  begin  prayer 
by  addressing  the  Holy  Spirit  within  us,  not  with 
calling  upon  the  Omnipresent  One,  who  compasses 
our  going  and  our  lying  down  and  whose  hand  is 
upon  us,  but  with  a  reverent  invocation  of  "Our 
Father  who  art  in  heaven,"  and  the  Heidelberg 
Catechism  says  so  beautifully,  that  we  should  do 
this,  in  order  not  to  think  of  the  great  God  in  an 
earthly  way.  Of  course,  this  is  not  all.  By  con- 
tinuance prayer  becomes  more  intimate.  This 
means  that  in  prayer  God  gradually  reveals  his 
holy  presence  to  us  and  comes  close  to  us.  And 
at  length  even  enters  our  heart,  when  the  Holy 
Spirit  prays  with  us  and  for  us,  and  teaches  us 
how  to  pray.     But  to  begin  with  this  is  sickly 

437 


mysticism.  At  first  we  face  the  distance.  First 
the  soul  must  lift  itself  to  higher  things.  Not 
here  below  but  above  is  the  altar  of  the  prayers 
of  the  saints,  which  burns  with  incense  before  his 
face.  No  more  here  below,  but  in  heaven  our 
Savior  is  seated  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  and 
prays  for  us,  and  by  his  intercession  supports  our 
prayer.  First  ''Lift  up  your  hearts,"  the  sursum 
cor  da,  and  then  as  we  pray  God  in  his  majesty 
graciously  condescends  to  us. 

And  this  true  impulse  of  prayer  expresses  itself 
in  this,  that  prayer  can  sometimes  become  a  call- 
ing, a  crying,  a  roaring,  as  the  Psalmist  says;  and 
only  when  we  observe  that  God  inclines  his  ear 
to  us,  and  regards  us,  and  hearkens  to  our  prayer, 
does  the  praying  soul  find  rest.  When  in  prayer 
we  feel  that  the  listening  ear  of  God  inclines  itself 
to  us,  the  distance  is  bridged,  and  we  know  that 
God  has  come  near  to  us,  and  that  we  are  near 
unto  God. 

And  so,  at  length,  prayer  reaches  its  highest  bliss 
in  what  in  the  third  place  we  called  the  personal 
turning  of  God  to  him  who  prays.  Thousands 
upon  thousands  call  on  God  every  morning  and 
every  evening  for  help  and  for  salvation.  True, 
the  number  of  those  who  no  longer  pray  is  on  the 
increase.  But  still  the  numbers  of  those  who  in 
times  of  need  and  stress  cry  after  God  for  deliv- 
erance are  incalculably  great.  And  now  the  point 
is,  to  knc^  that  among  those  thousands  and  tens 
of  thousands  who  are  to  be  noticed,  God  also 
looks  on  us,  and  that  he  knows  that  we,  too,  call 
upon  him.  Among  all  these  voices  that  cross  each 
other  and  mingle  together  to  have  our  voice  also 
penetrate  to  the  Almighty.    If  we  may  express  it 

438 


in  a  very  human  way,  to  know,  to  perceive,  to 
feel,  that  we,  too,  come  to  our  turn,  and  that  for 
us  also  there  comes  a  moment  of  hearing — that 
is  what  he  who  prays  means,  when  he  gives  jubi- 
lant thanks,  that  God  has  also  inclined  the  ear  to 
his  prayer. 

Of  course,  this  is  not  so  with  God.  He  does 
nothing  in  turn.  He  hears  every  one  who  prays 
immediately  and  all  at  the  same  time.  But  in  our 
human  consciousness  there  is  always  in  our  prayer, 
when  it  penetrates,  a  sense  that  God  now  turns 
also  to  us,  and  inclines  his  ear  to  our  personal 
prayer.  That  he  inclines  to  your  prayer  differ- 
ently than  to  the  prayer  of  others,  because  the 
Most  High  God  knows  your  particular  life,  under- 
stands your  personal  nature,  estimates  your  special 
need  o^  soul  and  therefore  has  stored  up  for  you 
an  altogether  particular  hearing  of  your  prayer. 

And  this  is  the  glory  of  prayer.  You  call  upon 
God,  and  he  knows  you.  He  distinguishes  you 
as  one  among  thousands.  However  insignificant 
you  may  be,  with  whatever  burden  of  sin  you 
come  to  him,  he  does  not  pass  you  by.  He 
despises  not  your  supplication.  He  turns  him- 
self to  you,  and  inclines  his  listening  ear.  And 
when  you  perceive  this  inclination  of  God,  prayer 
becomes  a  seal  to  you  of  your  election.  With 
close  by  you,  but  that  eternally  you  belong  to  him. 
kings  and  princes  on  earth,  the  mighty  and  the 
great  alone  are  admitted.  To  him,  the  King 
of  Kings,  even  the  most  forgotten  and  despised 
have  access.  When  you  pray,  and  God  inclines 
his  ear  to  your  prayer,  you  are  close  to  God,  and 
your  Father  who  is  in  heaven,  seals  the  fact  to 
you,  that  not  only  now  you  have  his  presence 

439 


''TAKE  NOT  THY  HOLY  SPIRIT 
mOM  ME." 

The  Holy  Scripture  speaks  of  a  seeking  of  God's 
face.  "Blessed  is  the  people  that  know  the  joy- 
ful sound:  they  shall  walk,  0  Lord,  in  the  light 
of  thy  countenance" (Ps.  89:15).  But  the  Scrip- 
ture speaks  also  of  something  more  intimate,  when 
it  comes  to  a  mutual  fellowship,  when  not  only 
the  light  of  God's  countenance  shines  on  us,  but 
when  also  the  soul  lifts  itself  up  to  God.  ''The 
secret  of  the  Lord  is  with  them  that  fear  him; 
and  he  will  show  them  his  covenant"  (Ps.  25:14). 
But  with  the  third  round  it  goes  still  further, 
when  Almighty  God  not  only  makes  his  face  to 
shine  upon  us,  and  admits  us  to  his  secret  walk, 
but  when  he  enters  into  our  heart,  makes  it  his 
temple,  and  as  Holy  Spirit  dwells  in  it.  "The 
Spirit  himself  maketh  intercession  for  us  with 
groanings  which  can  not  be  uttered,  and  he  that 
searcheth  the  hearts  knoweth  what  is  the  mind  of 
the  spirit,  because  he  maketh  intercession  for  the 
saints"  (Rom.  8:26-27). 

This  three-fold  degree  of  fellowship  should  be 
carefully  distinguished.  He  who  stands  on  the 
first  round  of  this  ladder  of  fellowship  has  turned 
away  from  the  vanities  of  the  world  and  has 
accustomed  himself  to  the  light  that  shines  from 
above.  He  walks  no  longer  in  his  own  light,  but 
in  the  light  of  God's  countenance.  The  darkness 
is  past.  He  knows  in  whom  he  believes.  And 
the  people  that  thus  walk  in  the  light  of  the 
Divine  countenance,  who  enjoy  this  not  merely 
from  time  to  time,  but  continuously,  the  Scripture 

440 


pronounces  blessed.  Then  of  itself  and  uncon- 
sciously the  second  round  is  reached,  the  entering 
upon  the  secret  walk  with  God.  Not  that  the 
light  of  God's  countenance  shines  on  us  all,  but 
in  this  way,  that  the  soul  has  become  a  mirror, 
from  which  this  light  is  reflected.  That  God 
shines  on  us,  and  that  the  soul  shines  out  toward 
God.  This  is  the  secret  of  the  Lord  which  is 
inwardly  disclosed  to  us.  But  even  this  is  not 
enough.  The  intimacy  of  living  near  unto  God 
goes  still  further,  enters  in  still  more  deeply,  and 
then  it  comes  to  this  indescribable,  this  unspeak- 
able, this  impenetrable  reality  that  the  Lord  God 
unites  himself  in  the  Holy  Spirit  so  closely  with 
our  spirit,  that  he  is  not  merely  above  and  around 
us,  but  that  he  is  also  in  us,  that  he  turns  into 
us,  makes  our  heart  his  dwelling  place,  and  that 
in  our  inmost  self  he  speaks  to  us  and  we  to  him. 

This  highest  round  is  not  reached  at  once.  There 
is  progression  here,  a  blessed  development  and 
deepening,  which  is  not  acquired  by  all,  and  in 
which  provisionally,  they  who  have  reached  it, 
find  themselves  only  now  and  then.  This  is 
known  as  their  most  blessed  moments;  as  a  peace 
of  God  which  comes  and  goes  again,  and  which, 
when  it  is  lost,  is  sought  again  anew.  The  break 
can  come  from  lack  of  spiritual  training.  It  can 
come  through  a  superior  power  from  without.  But 
in  most  cases  it  comes  through  sin.  The  latter 
was  the  case  with  David,  and  therefore  from  his 
desolate  and  "God-estranged"  heart  the  prayer  at 
once  arose:  "Take  not  thy  Holy  Spirit  from  me" 
(Ps.  51:11). 

When  we  treat  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  our  finite 
mind  deals  with  mystery.     Human  language  has 

441 


no  words  for  it.  Our  conception  here  fails  of  all 
analysis.  We  can  believe,  we  can  undergo  sensa- 
tions, we  can  enjoy,  but  here  on  earth,  at  least, 
and  in  our  state  of  sin  the  deep  mystery  of  the 
Triune  Being  of  God  can  not  be  unveiled  to  us. 
We  worship  Almighty  God  as  our  Father  who  is 
in  heaven.  We  worship  the  God  of  all  grace  in 
the  Only-begotten  Son,  whom  he  gave  unto  us, 
whom  he  sent,  and  delivered  in  our  behalf.  And 
we  worship  still  more  intimately  the  thrice  Holy 
One  in  the  Holy  Ghost,  whom  we  possess  as  Com- 
forter in  our  hearts.  In  whatever  direction  our 
thinking  and  pondering  moves,  whether  to  the 
world  round  about  us,  whether  in  the  world  of 
our  heart,  it  is  always  God  whom  we  meet, 
it  is  always  in  God  that  our  searching  gaze  finds 
its  point  of  rest,  it  is  always  to  God  that  our 
worship  and  devout  adoration  lift  themselves.  It 
is  always  God  who  overshadows  us,  and  inwardly 
fills  us  with  his  holy  love.  One  and  the  self-same 
God,  one  glorious  and  ever-blessed  Being,  one 
Omnipotence  which  carries  and  knows  us. 

But  it  remains  a  mystery.  A  mystery  which  is 
tender  to  our  heart,  rich  in  blessed  enjoyment, 
ever  more  intimately  revealing  itself  to  the  seek- 
ing soul,  but  far  transcending  all  our  thinking,  all 
our  understanding,  all  our  study  and  pondering. 
It  is  the  most  real  of  all  realities.  It  is  the  one 
thing  that  stays  by  when  once  the  world  shall 
fall  away  from  us,  and  consciousness  shall  be 
darkened  in  the  haziness  of  death.  It  is  the 
secret  of  the  Lord  at  which  scorners  laugh,  which 
leaves  the  world  cold,  awes  the  sinner  and  strikes 
terror  at  his  heart,  but  which,  according  to  the 
covenant  of  peace,  is  shown  to  God's  child  in  the 

442 


stillness  of  solitude.  It  is  the  Holy  Ghost  him- 
self who,  entering  into  the  heart  of  God's  child, 
sets  the  seal  upon  it  of  this  Triune  Mj'stery. 

But  for  this  reason  fellowship  with  the  Holy- 
Spirit  in  us  is  exceedingly  sensitive  and  tender. 
Nothing  must  come  in  between,  or  it  is  gone.  It 
can  not  withstand  anything  or  it  is  lost.  It  can 
not  bear  any  disturbance,  or  it  has  fled.  Not 
that  the  Holy  Spirit  withdraws  himself  and  leaves 
us  to  ourselves.  On  the  contrary  he  remains  in 
the  heart  which  he  has  chosen  for  his  dwelling 
place.  Neither  Satan  nor  the  world  can  expel 
him  from  his  temple.  And  this  is  his  Divine  love, 
that  dwelling  in  us,  he  allows  himself  to  be 
grieved,  to  be  offended,  to  be  hurt  and  wounded 
by  our  sin,  and  still  continues  his  stay. 

This  does  not  seem  to  you  to  be  the  case.  In 
the  hour  of  transgression,  you  feel  that  the  Holy 
Spirit  became  a  stranger  to  you;  that  he  went 
far  away  from  you;  and  that  he  could  scarcely 
be  reached  by  your  earnest  supplication.  He 
truly  continued  to  hold  tenure  in  your  heart,  but 
in  the  heart  itself  a  wall  of  separation  was  reared 
between  your  spirit  and  the  indwelling  Holy 
Ghost.  The  door  of  the  temple  within  was  locked 
by  your  own  ego.  You  descended  in  your  own 
being  to  the  deeper  underground,  above  which 
this  temple  raises  itself.  In  this  temple  the  Holy 
Ghost  was  still  enthroned,  but  you  had  no  more 
access  to  it.  So  all  fellowship  was  broken.  All 
secret  intercourse  was  cut  off — your  sin  had 
wound  you  round  as  a  spider  the  fly.  And  while 
the  Holy  Spirit,  whom  you  grieved,  in  seeking 
compassion  reaches  out  after  you  again,  you  draw 
yourself  back  in  your  own  sense  of  guilt. 

443 


And  even  in  such  moments,  faith  that  is  not 
understood,  continues  to  shine  through.  After 
his  deep  fall  David  felt  the  anxious  estrangement." 
He  realized  that  as  long  as  God  looked  upon  his 
sin,  no  restoration  of  fellowship  was  possible,  and 
therefore  he  prayed:  "Hide  thy  face  from  my 
sins,  and  blot  out  all  mine  iniquities"  (Ps.  51:9). 
He  became  inwardly  conscious  that  his  polluted 
heart  was  bound  to  estrange  him  from  God,  and 
therefore  he  pleaded  in  such  touching  and  beauti- 
ful terms:  ''Create  in  me  a  clean  heart,  0  God, 
and  renew  a  right  spirit  within  me."  He  walked  in 
deep  darkness,  and  so  he  prayed  that  the  light  of 
God's  countenance  might  pour  down  its  beams 
again  upon  him.  But  though  he  bruised  his 
guilty  head  against  the  wall  of  separation,  in  that 
same  striking  moment  the  sense  of  faith  was  alive 
in  him,  that  behind  that  wall  the  Holy  Ghost 
still  reached  out  to  comfort  him,  and  therefore 
he  prayed  not:  "Give  me  back  thy  Holy  Spirit," 
but  altogether  differently:  "Take  not  thy  Holy 
Spirit  from  me." 

Thus  the  soul  that  is  troubled  and  wretched 
holds  fast  to  faith.  It  does  not  understand  this 
in  itself;  it  does  not  grasp  this;  but  it  feels  that 
grace  does  not  let  go,  that  grace  is  in  God,  that 
God  with  his  grace  still  operates  within,  and  it 
only  fears  that  this  grace,  which  is  in  God  him- 
self, might  be  removed  from  it.  And  against  this 
fear  the  soul  prays,  supplicates,  cries:  0  God, 
stay  by  me,  stay  in  me.  Let  me  not  go  forever. 
And  this  supplication  keeps  on,  in  earnestness  and 
in  sincerity,  until  at  length  in  unspeakable  com- 
passion the  door  of  the  temple  opens  itself  again. 

444 


And  then  the  joy  of  salvation  returns;  the 
meeting  again  between  the  soul  that  had  deeply 
grieved  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  the  Holy  Spirit  who 
rather  than  let  go  the  soul  of  God's  child,  had 
allowed  himself  to  be  grieved.  It  is  well  with  him 
who  has  experienced  this  with  regard  to  his  own 
sin.  He  alone  understands  what  it  is  to  have  the 
Holy  Ghost  as  his  Comforter. 

83 

"KNOW  YE  NOT  THAT  YE  ARE  THE 
TEMPLE  OF  GOD?" 

In  prophecy  it  is  said,  that  God  "turned  aside 
to  tarry  for  a  night"  (Jer.  14:8).  This  figure  is 
borrowed  from  the  wayfaring  man  who  at  sun- 
down turns  in  to  spend  the  night,  and  when,  in 
early  morning  the  sun  appears  above  the  horizon, 
he  leaves  the  hospitable  inn  and  pursues  his  way. 
Applied  to  the  Holy  One  of  Israel,  this  means 
that  at  times  the  prophets  were  aware  of  the 
indwelling  of  the  Spirit  in  the  soul;  but  that  it 
was  not  permanent,  that  it  was  transient,  and  that 
soon  the  God  close  by  had  become  again  a  God 
afar  off.  By  the  side  of  this  experience  of  a  God 
who  turns  in  to  tarry  for  a  night,  and  then  leaves 
the  soul  again,  Jesus  puts  the  promise,  that  on 
the  day  of  Pentecost,  God  the  Holy  Ghost,  shall 
come  to  the  people  of  the  Lord,  and  shall  not  go 
away,  but  abide  with  them  forever.  St.  John,  in 
his  Gospel  (7:39),  states  this  forcibly,  when  he 
says:  "The  Holy  Ghost  was  not  yet  given,  be- 
cause that  Jesus  was  not  yet  glorified."  This 
can  not  mean,  of  course,  that  the  Holy  Spirit  did 
not  as  yet  exist,  but  signified  that  the  Holy  Ghost 

445 


had  not  yet  taken  up  his  abode  in  the  church 
permanently,  because,  only  after  his  ascension, 
Jesus  would  send  the  Comforter  from  the  Father 
to  the  church. 

And  so  it  must  be  understood  when  the  Apostles 
speak  of  the  church  as  of  a  "Temple  of  God"  and 
as  a  ''dwelling  place  of  God  in  the  Spirit."  "Know 
ye  not  that  ye  are  the  temple  of  God,  and  that 
the  spirit  of  God  dwelleth  in  you"  (I  Cor.  3:16), 
not  merely  signifies  that  the  Holy  Spirit  turns 
into  the  hearts  of  the  saints,  but  much  more  and 
much  more  strongly,  that  having  entered  the 
heart,  he  abides  there  permanently;  that  he  never 
more  leaves  the  heart  that  has  once  been  enriched 
with  his  indwelling,  but  according  to  Jesus'  prom- 
ise he  remains  there  forevermore. 

It  indicates  a  new  state  of  things,  an  entirely 
different  dispensation  of  the  Spirit.  What  under 
the  old  dispensation  took  place  transiently,  what 
was  an  occasional  descent  from  on  high  into  the 
hearts  of  a  very  few,  under  the  new  dispensation  is 
an  age  upon  age  indwelling  in  the  whole  church. 
Under  the  old  dispensation  the  separation  between 
God  and  man  was  maintained.  The  only  dwell- 
ing of  God  among  men  which  was  permanent  was 
in  Zion.  But  under  the  New  Covenant,  in  virtue 
of  the  sacrifice  of  Golgotha,  the  wall  of  separation 
has  been  done  away  for  good;  what  separated 
man  from  God  has  forever  been  brought  to  nought. 
God  has  not  merely  come  to  his  people,  but  has 
come  into  his  people.  The  temple  of  Zion  has 
ceased  to  exist,  and  in  the  place  of  it  has  come 
the  church  of  the  living  God.  She  is  now  God's 
temple.    God  dwells  in  her. 

446 


Thus  humanity  is  divided.  There  is  the  unre- 
generated  world,  with  which  the  separation  con- 
tinues, and  which  has  no  more  temple  on  Zion. 
And  there  are  the  people  of  the  Lord,  who  are  no 
longer  carnal,  but  live  their  hves  in  the  spirit. 
Among  this  people,  in  this  Church  of  the  Lord, 
all  separation  has  fallen  away.  She  is  more  closely 
allied  with  heaven  than  with  the  world.  She  has 
become  the  permanent,  abiding,  the  never-ending 
dwelling  place  of  God  in  the  Spirit. 

But  care  must  here  be  taken.  This  does  not 
mean  that  God's  spirit  reveals  his  operations  in 
God's  saints  alone.  He  who  says  this,  denies  the 
omnipresence  of  God,  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  limits 
his  activities.  The  Holy  Ghost  is  himself  God, 
and  therefore  there  is  nothing  in  God's  creation 
in  which  this  Spirit  does  not  operate.  Not  alone 
in  everything  human,  but  in  every  creature,  where 
there  is  a  working  of  the  Son  and  of  the  Father, 
there  is  likewise  a  working  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
With  every  other  representation  the  unity  of  the 
Threefold  Divine  being  is  lost.  In  creation  itself 
the  omnipotence  of  God  is  evident;  that  is  to 
say,  the  omnipotence  of  the  Father,  as  well  as  the 
omnipotence  of  the  Son,  and  the  omnipotence  of 
the  Holy  Spirit.  From  the  Father  is  the  fullness 
of  power,  from  the  Son  the  fullness  of  thought, 
from  the  Holy  Ghost  the  fullness  of  energy.  There 
is  no  force  of  nature,  no  organic  working,  no 
Divinity  evident  in  the  richness  and  beauty  of 
nature,  but  the  Holy  Ghost  glorifies  himself  in  it. 
And  if  this  is  evident  in  the  inanimate  creature,  it 
is  much  more  strongly  evident  in  the  conscious 
creature.  To  think  of  an  angel  apart  from  the 
fact,  that  all  talents  and  gifts  which  operate  in 

447 


him,  are  derived  from  the  Holy  Ghost,  is  absurd. 
The  same  applies  to  man.  No  general  has  ever 
excelled,  no  poet  has  ever  sung,  no  scholar  has 
ever  reaped  the  admiration  of  the  world,  no 
artist  has  ever  enriched  life  with  his  creations, 
but  it  was  the  Holy  Spirit,  who  caused  the  spark 
of  genius  to  glow  in  him. 

Such  and  not  otherwise  is  the  teaching  of 
Scripture.  It  even  goes  to  far,  that  no  gift  of 
the  Spirit,  and  no  talent  among  men  has  ever 
been  used  against  God,  but  it  was  the  Holy 
Ghost  who  not  only  apportioned  this  talent,  but 
also  maintained  it,  and  caused  it  to  work.  Hence 
this  is  the  awful  judgment  which  awaits  the  man 
who  has  misused  his  talent  against  God,  that  once 
he  shall  know  what  it  is,  with  a  gift  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  to  have  turned  himself  against  God. 

The  indwelling  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  the  soul 
is  altogether  different  from  these  gifts.  Entirely 
apart  from  our  gifts  and  talents  we  have  a  per- 
sonal life.  This  personal  life  enables  us  to  com- 
pany with  the  three  persons  in  the  Godhead  per- 
sonally. As  among  men  we  company  with  one 
another,  so  that  they  and  we  enter  into  conscious 
fellowship,  and  undergo  one  another's  influence, 
mutually  receive  and  return  love,  enter  into  their 
thoughts  and  acquaint  them  with  our  own,  suffer 
their  superiority,  enter  into  covenant  and  rela- 
tion with  them,  devote  ourselves  to  them  and 
make  sacrifices  for  them,  so  it  is  given  man  to 
enter  into  personal  intercourse  with  the  Holy  One, 
in  secret  fellowship  and  in  holy  communion.  This 
indwelling  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  us  signifies,  that 
God  not  only  allows  himself  to  be  sought  of  us, 
but   that   he   himself   has   come   to   us;    that   by 

448 


regenerating  us  he  has  enabled  us  to  obtain  per- 
sonal fellowship  with  him,  that  he  did  not  wait 
till  we  had  found  him,  but  that  ^e  made  the 
approach  to  us  and  touched  us  not  from  with- 
out but  from  within,  and  that  m  the  deepest 
secrecy  of  the  life  of  the  soul  he  estabhshed  the 
tie  which  made  us  to  taste  his  presence  m  the 
very  roots  of  our  being,  m  the  deepest  ground 
of  our  sensations,  in  the  immediacy  of  our  first 
perceptions  and  feelings. 

This  Divine  fellowship  does  not  depend  on 
natural  gifts  and  talents,  for  he  who  is  "^ost  richly 
endowed  with  genius  may  suffer  the  lack  of  it,  and 
the  plainest  among  the  plam  may  enjoy  it  to  the 
full.  In  humamty  itself  God  has  implanted  the 
disposition  for  this.  Sm  alone  has  disturbed  it. 
In  regeneration  God  restores  this  disposition.  Then 
fellowship  IS  possible  again.  Then  fellowship 
comes  again.  Then  in  the  deepest  secrecy  of  hi. 
soul  man  is  one  again  v/ith  God 

This  is  the  work  of  the  Comforter.  It  is  not 
yet  the  heavenly  state,  which  will  be  all  joyous 
when  even  the  memory  of  our  sm  not  only,  but 
of  the  fact  of  our  ever  having  been  sinners  will 
be  taken  from  us,  and  will  be  cast  into  the  depth 
of  the  sea.  Here  we  still  feel  that  we  undergo  a 
Divine,  artistic  operation.  By  having  o^^  under- 
standing darkened  and  by  being  blinded  and  for- 
saken we  are  reminded  again  and  again  of  the 
antithesis  between  this  glorious  indwelling  of  thB 
Holy  Ghost,  and  the  fact  that  we  have  been  born 
S  sin  With  us  the  Holy  Spirit  continuously 
reacts  against  our,  sinful  nature.  And  ^heref^^^^^^ 
here  on  earth  he  is  and  remains  our  .pomforter. 
For  this  is  the  blessed  comfort  of  a  chdd  of  dust, 


449 


that  while  on  one  side  he  still  sinks  away  in 
misery,  yet  under  it  all  and  with  it  all  he  remains 
conscious  of  the  blessed  presence  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.  That  the  Holy  Spirit  does  not  go  away, 
that  he  does  not  allow  himself  to  be  sent  away, 
that  he  does  not  give  us  up,  but  continues  to 
dwell  with  us,  and  to  take  us  as  we  are,  is  his 
infinite,  his  Divine  love.  That  he  did  not  merely 
"turn  in  to  tarry  for  the  night,"  but  that  he 
abides  with  us  forever,  is  our  joyous  bliss,  and 
the  glorious  richness  of  our  comfort. 

84 

"ACCUSTOM  NOW  THYSELF  TO  HIM." 

The  exhortation  that  we  should  accustom  our- 
selves to  God,  carries  a  reproach  that  brings 
shame.  It  is  as  though  one  would  say  to  a  child: 
"Accustom  yourself  to  your  mother  I"  This  might 
be  said  with  regard  to  a  stepmother,  stepfather  or 
stepbrother,  but  we  do  not  accustom  ourselves 
to  our  own  mother,  who  has  carried  us  under  her 
heart.  We  love  her  with  all  the  fidelity  and 
affection  of  the  heart  of  a  child. 

We  only  accustom  ourselves  to  what  is  strange 
to  us,  or  what  by  estrangement  has  become  so. 
When,  therefore,  we  are  exhorted  to  accustom  our- 
selves to  God,  it  implies  that  our  Father  who  is 
in  heaven  has  become  a  stranger  to  us;  that  this 
estrangement  is  still  a  barrier  in  the  way  of  our 
fellowship  with  God;  and  that  we  should  endeavor, 
the  sooner  the  better,  to  accustom  ourselves  again 
to  God,  in  order  that  this  obstacle  might  be 
removed. 

460 


-With  God,  of  course,  this  does  not  mean,  what 
it  does  with  us,  when  we  speak  of  becoming 
accustomed  to  one.  We  speak  of  it  most  fre- 
quently when  we  first  come  in  touch  with  some 
one  who  acts  strangely,  a  man  of  strong  peculiar- 
ities, who  is  unpreposessing.  Then  it  is  our  duty 
not  to  be  repelled  by  him,  but  indulgently  to  seek 
common  points  of  interest  with  him,  and  to  adapt 
ourselves  to  his  strange  manner.  We  also  speak 
of  accustoming  ourselves  to  one,  who  either  by  a 
difference  in  development  is  far  above  us,  or  who 
by  social  difference  has  another  outlook  upon  life. 
For  this  makes  a  difference  in  inclinations  and 
sympathies,  in  mental  activity  and  choice  of  voca- 
tion in  life.  He  is  interested  in  what  does  not 
interest  you.  And  in  the  great  drama  of  life  you 
play  in  an  altogether  different  act  from  his.  Thus 
to  accustom  oneself  to  another,  in  all  such  cases, 
means,  that  we  restrain  ourselves,  that  we  smooth 
down  the  sharp  edges  of  our  own  character,  and 
that  constrained  by  the  dictates  of  love  and  the 
necessity  of  social  intercourse,  we  enter  into  his 
life,  in  order  to  understand  him,  to  sympathize 
with  him,  and  gradually  to  adopt  him  into  the 
circle  of  our  affections. 

All  this  of  itself  is  entirely  different  with  re- 
spect to  the  Lord  our  God.  With  him  we  have 
to  do  with  our  God  and  our  Creator,  with  our 
Lord  and  our  King,  with  our  Father  who  is  in 
heaven.  Everything  in  him  that  appears  strange 
to  us  is  our  own  fault,  our  own  sin;  it  is  sign 
and  token  that  we  are  wrong;  that  we  are  corrupt 
461 


in  our  sensations  and  feelings,  and  that  we  are 
astray  in  the  deliberations  of  our  hearts.  If  we 
were  what  we  ought  to  be,  there  would  be  no 
estrangement  from  God,  and  no  need  of  the 
exhortation  to  accustom  ourselves  again  to  God. 
Hence  the  saying:  "Accustom  now  thyself  to 
him,"  is  a  judgment  that  is  passed  on  us,  a  com- 
plaint against  our  mode  of  life,  and  at  the  same 
time  it  is  a  sacred  admonition  to  become  a  child 
again  in  fellowship  with  our  Father. 

What  is  unbelief  in  these  our  days?  From  what 
cause  is  the  quiet,  firm  confidence  in  what  God  has 
revealed  unto  us,  shaken  with  many,  even  among 
the  faithful?  One  first  speaks  of  impenetrable 
secrets;  then  of  problems  which  defy  the  under- 
standing: gradually  it  is  doubted  whether  revela- 
tion is  correct,  until,  at  length,  in  the  face  of 
Scripture  and  experience  the  human  interpretation 
of  life  is  boldly  posited  as  the  only  valid  one. 
What  this  amounts  to  is,  that  feeling  strange  to 
God  and  to  his  Word,  there  is  no  willingness  to 
get  accustomed  to  him,  to  his  doings  and  to  his 
Word.  On  the  contrary  it  is  demanded  that  God 
shall  change  him&elf  and  show  himself  to  be  con- 
form to  our  thought.  If  we  accustom  ourselves 
to  him  we  must  change  and  reform  ourselves 
until  we  are  meet  for  God.  But  doubt  and  un- 
belief demands  that  our  confession  of  God  shall 
be  modified  in  such  a  way,  that  it  shall  turn  out 
a  God  for  us  who  shall  suit  us. 

This  struggle  was  not  so  sharp  and  bitter  at 
one  time,  because  at  least   in  its   main   outlines 

452 


the  Bible  interpretation  of  life  was  counted  valid 
in  science,  in  public  opinion,  and  therefore  in  edu- 
cation, and  in  the  better  forms  of  social  inter- 
course. He  who  in  those  better  days  believed,  was 
carried  by  the  general  tenor  of  life,  and  there 
was  no  occasion  for  offense,  not  even  among 
the  younger  people.  But  all  this  has  changed. 
Every  fundamental  idea  about  God,  creation,  the 
fall,  the  Atonement,  life  after  death  and  the  last 
judgment,  which  was  once  common  property,  has 
been  given  up  by  science,  has  become  uncertain 
in  public  opinion,  has  been  banished  from  educa- 
tion, and  dismissed  as  topics  of  conversation  from 
among  more  serious-minded  people.  And  not  this 
alone,  but  gradually  an  entirely  different  system 
of  fundamental  ideas  has  been  put  in  place  of  it. 
An  altogether  different  confession  has  arisen,  a 
different  catechism  has  found  entrance.  Broadly 
ramified,  the  rationalistic  interpretation  of  life  now 
stands  in  public  opinion  side  by  side  with  the 
Christian  Confession. 

Thus  to  the  estrangement  from  God  which  is 
occasioned  by  sin,  a  second  estrangement  has  been 
added,  which  tempts  us  to  adopt  an  interpreta- 
tion of  life,  which  openly  conflicts  with  the  plan, 
doings  and  wisdom  of  God,  as  revealed  in  his 
Word.  Everything  in  God  has  thereby  become 
strange  to  many  people.  In  no  single  particular  do 
they  feel  at  home  with  God  or  in  his  Word.  The 
child  has  ceased  to  know  his  Father.  Hence  the 
call :  "Accustom  now  thyself  to  God"  is  most  serious 
and  doubly  significant.     It  now  means:     Disen- 

4&3 


gage  yourself  from  the  tie  that  binds  you  to  the 
wisdom  of  the  world,  and  with  all  your  mind  and 
heart  enter  again  into  the  plan  and  most  holy 
thoughts  of  God. 

Do  not  take  this  in  a  philosophical  sense. 
Interpret  it  practically  in  behalf  of  life.  Especially 
with  regard  to  the  mystery  of  suffering,  to  which 
Eliphaz  applied  it,  even  though  mistakenly,  in 
the  case  of  Job.  Suffering  would  be  no  mystery 
amid  the  hardships  of  life,  if  it  were  always  care- 
fully measured  out  to  individuals,  according  to 
their  misdoings  against  God  or  man.  For  then 
nothing  would  be  evident  in  suffering  save  right- 
eous retribution,  and  for  the  rest  every  one's  lot 
in  life  would  be  alike.  This  thought  certainly 
implies  the  unchangeable  fact  of  eternal  retribu- 
tion, in  accordance  with  every  man's  deeds, 
whether  they  be  good  or  evil.  The  mistake, 
hov/ever,  is,  that  this  retribution  of  eternal  justice 
is  confused  with  the  mystery  of  suffering  here  on 
earth;  so  that  suffering  is  taken  individually,  and 
estimated  by  each  personal  manner  of  life  and 
behavior.  This  makes  us  stumble  on  the  hard 
fact,  that  we  are  offended  at  the  godless  man  who 
prospers,  and  even  worse,  that  our  soul  smarts 
with  indignation  at  the  sight  of  a  true  child  of 
God,  a  noble  character,  a  faithful  servant  of 
Christ,  who,  as  we  would  say,  did  nothing  wrong, 
overwhelmed  by  waves  of  affliction.  That  men 
might  do  so,  we  understand.  When  a  tyrant 
honors  the  godless,  and  harasses  the  children  of 
God,  we  think  it  dreadful,  because  it  is  always 

454 


God  who  allows  it;  but  we  can  submit  to  this. 
But  that  God  himself  inflicts  this  in  sickness,  and 
by  means  of  cruel  death,  is  and  remains  at  this 
viewpoint  a  stumbling  block  which  one  can  not 
get  over,  and  which  has  killed  much  rootless  faith. 
What  accounts  for  this,  save  that  God's  thoughts 
are  entirely  different  from  our  thoughts,  and  that 
instead  of  accustoming  ourselves  to  his  plan,  we 
stubbornly  maintain  our  interpretation  of  suffer- 
ing in  opposition  to  him. 

With  God,  individual  retribution  is  connected 
with  the  last  judgment,  and  not  with  sentence 
passed  by  an  earthly  judge,  and  far  less  still  with 
suffering,  which  he  brings  upon  us.  According  to 
the  teaching  of  Scripture,  sin  is  no  evil  that  cleaves 
to  single  individuals,  but  a  poison  that  has 
entered  into  our  whole  race.  The  creation  of  man 
was  not  individual,  but  in  it  was  created  a  race, 
all  mankind,  which,  in  all  ages  and  among  all 
nations  forms  one  whole.  Not  a  large  number  of 
people  that  only  afterwards  by  laws  and  other 
w^ays  are  counted  as  one  whole,  but  our  human 
race;  from  which  individuals  proceed,  and  to 
which  they  belong  as  twigs  and  leaves  to  a  tree. 
And  to  save  the  race  of  man  which  he  created, 
God  brought  suffering  into  the  world  of  men,  as 
an  antidote  for  the  poison  of  sin.  With  him  suf- 
fering is  a  cup  of  sacred  medicine  which  he 
administers  not  to  the  individual  person,  but  to 
our  race,  in  order  to  counteract  the  poison  of  sin. 
And  now  he  selects  priests  and  priestesses  who 
are  called  of  him,  to  administer  'the  sacrament  of 

455 


suffering  to  the  world.  If  he  elected  godless  peo- 
ple only  for  this  purpose,  they  would  harden 
themselves  against  suffering,  and  the  godly  would 
pride  themselves  on  being  spared.  The  medicine 
would  do  no  good.  It  would  bring  spiritual  pet- 
rifaction.   It  would  bring  loss  for  gain. 

No,  to  bear  suffering,  he  calls  first  of  all  upon 
the  best,  the  most  godly,  the  most  noble,  his 
prophets  and  his  martyrs.  Thereby  the  holy 
operation  of  the  medicine  goes  forth  and  accom- 
plishes that  whereunto  he  has  appointed  it.  The 
Cross  explains  it.  God  so  loved  the  world,  that 
he  gave  it  his  only  Begotten  Son.  Personally 
Jesus  stands  entirely  outside  of  sin.  He  is  not 
only  the  most  godly,  the  noblest,  the  best  of  the 
children  of  men,  but  he  is  the  Son  of  Man,  and 
upon  him  comes  the  burden  of  suffering  as  upon 
no  other  man.  And  from  no  suffering  among 
the  children  of  men  has  there  gone  forth  an  opera- 
tion unto  salvation  as  from  his  Cross.  And  there- 
fore, the  Cross  expresses  the  thought  of  God,  the 
appointment  of  God,  the  wisdom  of  God.  Whoso- 
ever would  understand  his  own  sorrows  and  the 
suffering  of  the  world,  must  accustom  himself  to 
this  appointment,  to  this  thought  and  to  this 
wisdom  of  God.  And  he  who  does  this  has  heav- 
enly comforting,  yea,  he  can  give  thanks  that 
the  cup  of  suffering  has  not  passed  him  by.  He 
feels  that  he  is  himself  a  priest,  in  order  that 
following  after  the  One  High  priest,  he  may,  in 
the  name  of  the  Lord,  administer  the  sacrament 
of  suffering. 

456 


86 

"THE  SPIRIT  OF  MAN  IS  A  CANDLE  OF 
THE  LORD." 

To  be  near  unto  God  is  a  luxury  of  soul  which 
by  grace  can  be  our  portion  also  in  unconscious- 
ness. When  a  child  of  God  that  enjoyed  the 
secret  walk  is  put  under  an  anesthetic  for  the 
sake  of  an  operation,  it  does  not  break  fellowship 
between  his  heart  and  God.  The  same  is  true  of 
a  swoon.  In  high  fever  when  the  heated  blood 
over-stimulates  the  brain,  and  delirium  ensues, 
the  relation  with  God  remains  equally  intact. 
Even  sleep,  which  for  many  hours  deprives  us  of 
self-knowledge,  may  not  be  taken  otherwise,  and 
this  entirely  apart  even  from  our  consciousness 
in  dreams.  And  yet  in  each  of  these  conditions, 
from  our  side,  as  far  as  conscious  life  goes,  being 
near  unto  God  is  inactive.  But  consciousness  of 
fellowship  with  God  is  not,  therefore,  lost.  Being 
wakened  by  a  gentle  touch,  it  is  felt  again  and 
resumed.  Consciousness  of  this  fellowship  has 
only  become  inactive.  It  is  with  this  as  with 
our  capacity  of  sight.  This,  too,  in  sleep  is  not 
gone,  but  its  at  rest.  Electric  light  illustrates  this 
clearly.  When  the  button  is  turned,  everything 
is  light,  and  when  it  is  turned  again,  everything 
is  dark.  The  power  remains  the  same.  It  only 
draws  itself  back  from  shining. 

From  God's  side,  on  the  other  hand,  fellow- 
ship with  the  soul  of  his  child  operates  contin- 
ually; even  under  narcotic  influence,  in  a  swoon 

457 


and  during  sleep  it  maintains  itself  and  acts.  The 
knowledge  of  this  imparls  rest,  as  one  undergoes 
an  anaesthetic,  and  no  less  that  peaceful  feeling 
with  which  at  night  we  lose  ourselves  in  sleep. 
"Let  me  sleeping  wait  for  thee;  Lord,  then  sleep 
I  peacefully,"  as  it  was  sung  in  Hernhutt.  And 
who  can  doubt  but  that  the  strength-imparting 
and  strength-renewing  operations  with  which  our 
Father  who  is  in  heaven  favors  his  children,  are 
yet  more  manifold  and  effective  in  sleep  than  by 
day.  The  third  part  of  our  life,  that  binds  us 
to  our  couch,  by  no  means  serves  the  needs  of 
the  body  alone.  It  meets  a  higher  end.  Particu- 
larly by  night  God  builds  his  temple  in  our  hearts. 
This  detracts  nothing  from  the  fact  that,  "To 
be  near  unto  God"  only  obtains  its  highest  sig- 
nificance, when  with  our  clear  consciousness  of 
day  we  hold  blessed  fellowship  with  God.  When 
we  perceive,  observe  and  know,  that  the  soul  is 
near  to  God  and  God  near  to  the  soul;  when, 
humanly  speaking,  there  is  an  exchange  of  per- 
ceptions between  God  and  us;  when  we,  speak- 
ing reverently,  with  the  telephone  call  up  God  in 
prayer,  and  far  from  on  high  the  answer  comes. 
But  consider  well,  that  this  calling  and  answering 
are  not  exhausted  by  the  words  you  stammer 
and  the  ideas  which  thereby  operate  in  you.  A 
mother  has  tender,  affectionate  communion  with 
the  little  one  at  her  breast,  apart  from  any  word 
and  outside  of  any  intellectual  understanding. 
That  which  operates  in  this  fellowship  and  main- 
tains it,  is  life  itself,  the  drawings  of  the  blood, 

468 


the  thrilling  of  the  feeling.  And  though,  when 
the  child  shall  have  become  a  youth  and  a  young 
man,  this  fellowship  will  express  itself  in  words 
and  in  ideas,  the  root  of  this  communion,  even  in 
later  years,  will  reach  deeper  than  the  lips  that 
speak  the  word.  What  does  not  the  look  of  the 
eye  convey,  the  expression  of  the  face,  a  tear  a. 
smile,  and  how  sweeth^  does  not  operate  in  and 
under  all  this  the  commimion  of  the  same  blood, 
the  tenderness  of  hiding  love? 

All  this  is  not  unconscions,  but  constitute?  part 
of  the  consciousness.  It  ii  as  the  fragrance  of  a 
flower,  as  an  atmosphere  of  love  which  we  breathe 
in.  It  is  the  perfume  and  the  atmosphere  of  the 
heart,  which  we  drink  in  with  full  draughts.  And 
truly,  you  well  know  what  the  scent  of  a  rose  is, 
and  of  an  hyacinth;  you  are  perfectly  conscious 
of  it,  even  though  the  ablest  botanist  is  not  able 
to  analyze  this  perfume  in  ideas,  nor  to  describe 
it  in  words.  Thus  to  be  consciously  near  unto 
God,  means  far  more  than  you  can  understand,  or 
express  in  words.  It  is  a  becoming  aware,  a  per- 
ceiving, a  feeling,  which  may  not  be  attributed 
to  the  nerves.  That  creates  false  mysticism.  But 
it  is  a  perceiving  and  an  expressing  of  self  in  a 
spiritual  v.ay,  in  the  immediate  union  of  your 
inner  sense  with  the  life  of  God. 

To  make  this  plain  the  Scripture  distinguishes 
between  the  soul  and  our  inner  being.  It  speaks 
on  one  hand  of  the  heart  and  of  the  soul,  and  on 
the  other  hand  of  something  that  lies  far  behind 
and  deep  underneath  the  two.    This  is  expressed 

459 


plastically  in  several  ways,  mostly  by  contrasting 
the  heart  and  the  reins,  and  also  by  speaking  of 
the  bowels,  or  as  in  Proverbs  20:27,  by  contrast- 
ing the  soul  with  "the  innermost  chambers  of  the 
belly."  Translating  this  into  our  language,  "the 
soul  of  man"  here  means  our  consciousness,  and 
the  latter  clause  what  we  call:  Our  hidden  inner 
being.  In  this  sense  it  is  said,  that  "our  con- 
sciousness is  a  candle  of  the  Lord  that  searches 
our  innermost  being."  Our  consciousness  is  a 
searchlight  which  God  himself  sends  forth  across 
our  entire  inner  being,  in  order  that  in  its  bright- 
ness and  clearness  we  should  learn  to  know  our 
own  inmost  self. 

Thus  only  are  these  words  intelligible  to  us, 
and  unveil  a  deep,  far-reaching  thought,  which 
penetrates  and  appeals  to  us.  Our  consciousness 
is  not  of  our  own  making.  To  become  conscious  is 
not  our  act.  But  all  consciousness  is  an  operation  in 
us  which  is  quickened  by  God,  and  which  is 
maintained  in  us  by  him  from  moment  to  moment. 
It  is  on  a  line  with  the  sun.  The  sun  is  the  light 
in  the  world  of  nature,  by  which  God  enables  us 
to  see,  to  observe  and  to  investigate  nature.  And 
in  like  manner  the  consciousness  is  a  light  which 
is  ignited  by  God  in  our  personal  ego;  or 
better  yet,  it  is  a  light  which  God  causes  to  shine 
in  the  world  of  our  innermost  being,  in  order  that 
in  this  spiritual  light  we  should  examine  and  esti- 
mate our  own  spirit.  This  light  of  our  con- 
sciousness is  called  a  candle,  because  when  we  go 
•down  into  ourselves,  we  begin  with  a  sinking  away 

460 


into  pitch  darkness,  and  in  this  black  darkness 
of  our  innermost  being,  God  meets  us  with  the 
candle  of  our  consciousness. 

Of  course,  our  consciousness  is  no  candle,  which 
the  Lord  uses  to  search  us.  God  has  no  need  of 
the  hght  of  the  sun  by  which  to  clearly  see  his 
whole  creation.  In  the  deepest  parts  of  the 
earth,  where  no  beam  of  sunlight  ever  enters,  it 
is  light  before  God  as  the  day.  As  David  sang 
in  Psalm  139:  "Yea,  the  darkness  hideth  not 
from  thee;  but  the  night  shineth  as  the  day;  the 
darkness  and  the  light  are  both  alike  to  thee." 
What  is  here  true  of  the  light  of  the  world, 
applies  equally  to  the  world  of  our  inner  being. 
There,  too,  God  has  no  need  of  a  candle,  where- 
with to  throw  light  upon  us.  In  the  darkness  of 
this  hidden  world  also  the  darkness  shineth  as 
the  day.  But  we  have  need  of  this  candle  and 
it  is  grace,  that  by  the  light  of  this  candle  of  our 
consciousness  God  lightens  the  darkness  of  our 
inner  being.  We  make  artificial  light.  This  makes 
us  think.  We  do  this  by  reasoning.  We  do  this 
by  our  representations.  And  that  can  have  its 
use.  But  frequently  this  artificial  light  shines 
falsely.  It  misleads.  It  never  shines  further  in 
than  the  surface.  This  artificial  light  of  our  own 
pondering  and  musing  never  enters  into  what 
Solomon  calls,  with  such  plastic,  graphic  power, 
''the  innermost  chambers  of  the  belly."  And  all 
too  frequently  it  blinds  our  eyes,  so  that  we  can 
not  see  the  light  of  the  candle  of  the  Lord  with 
the  eye  of  the  soul.     Hence  the  so-called  "civil- 

461 


ized   world"   for   the   most   part  is  blind   to   the 
light  of  God's  candle  in  us. 

The  light  of  this  candle  of  the  Lord  in  us  does 
not  argue,  and  does  not  analyze,  but  shows  what 
there  is  in  us,  lays  bare  our  own  being  before  the 
eye  of  the  soul,  gives  us  self-knowledge,  and  cuts 
off  all  self-deception.  And  it  is  the  light  of  this 
candle  of  the  Lord  which  makes  us  clearly  see  in 
the  deepest  underground  of  our  being,  the  fibres 
by  which  the  root  of  our  being  has  fellowship 
with  God;  fellowship  by  reason  of  our  creation 
after  the  image  of  God;  fellowship  through  the 
blessed,  glorious  regeneration  of  our  sin-corrupted 
nature;  fellowship  through  the  Divine  indwelling 
of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  fellowship  through  the  glorious 
inworking  of  ever-increasing  grace;  fellowship 
above  all  else  through  the  tie  that  binds  us  to 
Christ,  and  makes  us  members  of  his  body. 

The  brightness  of  this  light  is  always  the  same 
in  degree,  but  the  effect  of  it  gradually  increases 
in  strength.  At  first  there  is  still  so  much  that  is 
wrong  in  the  heart,  so  much  dust  of  sin,  that 
covers  the  heart  and  renders  brightest  light  invis- 
ible to  us.  But  gradually  this  vile  dust  flies  away 
before  the  breath  of  the  Lord,  and  then  the  eye 
comes  to  see  what  was  hidden  underneath  this 
dust.  And  thus  it  can  not  be  otherwise,  but  that 
the  deeper  the  light  can  shine  in,  the  more  glor- 
iously it  becomes  manifest  to  the  eye  of  the  soul 
that  we  are  bound  to  God  with  all  the  ties  of 
our  life,  and  that  our  fellowship  with  God 
embraces  our  whole  life. 
462 


86 

"1  IN  THEM  AND  THOU  IN  ME." 

The  soul's  nearness  to  God  and  our  "mystical 
union  with  Christ"  belong  together.  All  the 
apostles  placed  the  emphasis  on  this;  and  in  their 
writings  the  fathers  of  the  Reformation,  with 
Calvin  in  the  lead,  always  referred  to  the  mystical 
union  with  Christ  as  an  indispensable  factor  in  all 
true  religion.  The  temptation  to  which,  alas,  so 
many  yield,  of  staying  on  Golgotha,  and  of  there 
closing  off  their  account  with  Christ,  kills  the 
faith.  The  course  of  procedure  is,  that  the  con- 
science awakens  for  a  moment;  that  the  weight 
of  sin  burdens  the  soul;  and  that  fear  of  judg- 
ment strikes  the  heart.  In  such  a  moment  the 
consolatory  thought  of  the  cross  arises  invitingly 
in  the  soul.  If  the  atoning  sacrifice  is  accepted, 
one  is  saved.  Nothing  more  is  needed  save  only 
to  believe.  And  one  is  readily  persuaded  to  do 
this.  To  express  this  as  sharply  as  the  case  allows : 
One  closes  the  bargain.  And  now  he  deems  him- 
self saved.  He  accepts  it  as  a  fact,  that  he  is 
assured  of  eternal  life.  He  thinks  that  the  aton- 
ing sacrifice  is  glorious.  It  brings  perfect  salva- 
tion. Thus  Christ  has  become  his  Savior.  But  in 
his  conversation  nothing  is  heard  of  a  closer, 
tenderer  relation  of  the  soul  to  Christ.  In  the  utter- 
ances of  his  spiritual  life  nothing  is  perceived  that 
refers  to  it.  He  is  now  saved,  and  that  is  the 
end  of  it. 

This,  however,  is  nothing  but  self-conceit. 
Nothing  but  spiritual  egotism  is  at  play  in  this. 
Escape  is  sought  from  eternal  punishment;  one 
wants  to  insure  himself  for  eternal  salvation.   But 

463 


there  is  nothing  indicative  in  this  of  thirst  after 
the  living  God;  nothing  of  the  child's  longing  for 
his  Father's  house;  nothing  of  sacred  jealousy  for 
the  honor  of  God's  name.  And  from  this,  no 
spiritual  power  can  proceed.  No  religion  can 
operate  in,  nor  go  forth  from,  this.  And  what  is 
more,  it  can  not  be  true,  that  in  this  wise  Gol- 
gotha can  bring  propitiation  for  the  life  of  the 
soul. 

The  Gospel  does  not  preach  this.  It  does  not 
explain  the  atoning  sacrifice  to  us  in  this  way. 
The  Scripture  never  attributes  power  of  salvation 
to  Golgotha,  except  as  the  mystical  union  binds 
our  inner  life  to  the  life  of  Christ.  It  must  be  a 
being  buried  with  him  in  his  death,  in  order  to 
rise  with  him  unto  life.  They  alone  who  have 
become  one  planting  with  Christ,  share  the  grace 
which  he  obtained.  They  alone  who  have  be- 
come sheep  of  his  flock,  can  come  after  the  great 
Shepherd  of  souls.  It  is  not  Golgotha  which  saves 
us.  He  who  saves  us  is  Christ,  who  died  on  Gol- 
gotha. You  must  become  one  with  him,  as  mem- 
ber of  his  body.  You  must  be  accepted  and  in- 
corporated under  him  as  your  Head,  before  one 
drop  of  grace  can  fall  on  you.  In  the  Father  you 
must  have  been  given  to  Christ,  so  that  his  glory 
may  be  revealed  in  you.  The  mystical  union 
must  have  laid  the  tie  of  love  eternally  between 
him  and  your  soul.  Yea,  it  must  become  Christ 
in  you,  and  the  Father  in  Christ,  so  that  through 
this  middle  link  your  life  of  nearness  to  God  can 
become  a  reality.  For  so  your  Savior  himself 
464 


prayed  in  his  high-priestly  prayer:      Holy  Father, 
I  in  them  and  thou  in  me"  (St.  John  17  :2dh 

If    however,    our    mystical    union   with    Christ 
shall  maintain  its  true  religious  character,  and  not 
degenerate    into    sentimental     Chnstolatry,    this 
relation  to  Christ  must  never  be  taken  as  an  end 
in  itself.     Christ  is  the  Mediator,  and  there  can 
be  no  Mediator  except  for  the  sake  of  making  our 
approach  to  God  possible.    To  be  near  unto  God, 
in  sacred  confidence  to  feel  oneself  to  be  close  by 
God    to  live  here  on  earth  in  nearness  to   God 
through   faith,   and    once,   after   death,   to   serve 
God  eternally  in  the  Fatherhouse  above— that  is 
and  remains  the  end  and  aim;  and  everything  the 
Scripture  reveals  to  us  regarding  the   Mediator- 
ship  of  Christ,  must  result  in  this,  and  can  never 
rest  in  itself.     Once  Christ  himself  shall  deliver 
up  the  Kingdom  to  God,  even  the  Father,  that 
God  may  be  all  in  all.    He  who  stops  short  with 
himself,  or  has  no  further  desire  than  to  be  num- 
bered with  God's  people,  arrests  spiritual  progress 
in  his  own  soul. 

The  ideal  end  at  which  we  aim,  may  and  can 
not  be  less,  than  to  enjoy  God  forever,  and  to 
exist  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  glorify  his 
name.  And  just  because  this  is  the  ideal  end,  all 
rehgion  on  earth  is  imperfect,  which  does  not 
already  here  bring  us  nearer  to  God,  make  us 
dwell  in  nearness  to  him,  and  induce  us  to  spend 
all  our  strength  and  all  our  talent  in  his  service. 
Piety  that  consists  in  soothing  emotion  and  in 
spiritual  recreation,  lacks  strength  and  inspiration. 

466 


And  our  piety  only  becomes  energetic  when  we 
love  God  with  such  perfect  consecration,  that  we 
know  of  no  higher  joy  than  to  drink  in  his  peace, 
no  greater  recreation  than  to  be  near  unto  him, 
and  no  holier  ambition  than  to  fight  and  to  sufifer 
for  his  holy  name.  And  not  even  service  of 
Christ  may  detract  anything  from  this.  The 
Savior  himself  has  never  desired  or  aimed  at  any- 
thing else  than  to  bring  us  to  the  Father.  Who- 
soever turns  this  into  a  sort  of  Christ-worship, 
making  him  the  end  and  aim,  and  thereby  losing 
from  sight  the  approach  to  our  Father  who  is  in 
heaven,  does  not  honor  Christ,  but  opposes  him, 
and  does  not  confirm  the  mystical  union  with 
his  Savior,  but  tears  away  the  fibres  thereof. 

This  makes  the  union  mystical,  i.  e.  it  is  not 
lost  in  emotions,  sensations  and  meditations,  but 
rests  in  the  nature  of  the  soul.  The  feelings  which 
you  cherish  for  Christ,  the  sensations  wherewith 
the  Person  and  the  gracious  work  of  the  Savior 
afifect  you,  the  thoughts  concerning  him  on  which 
you  ponder,  and  on  which  your  confession  is 
based,  truly  possess  supreme  merit.  They  are 
indispensable.  All  of  your  conscious  life  must  be 
saturated  through  and  through  with  Christ.  But 
without  more,  this  gives  you  no  share  in  the 
mystical  union.  That  which  is  mystical  in  a  holy 
sense,  lies  deeper  than  the  consciousness,  and  roots 
in  your  being  itself.  Hence,  the  Scriptural  teach- 
ing concerning  regeneration,  the  new  creature,  the 
new  man.  There  is  not  merely  atonement  and 
forgiveness,  and  on  your  part  confession,  faith 
466 


and  singing  hj^mns  of  praise.  No,  Christ  has 
entered  into  our  nature.  This  was  possible,  be- 
cause our  nature  was  created  after  the  image  of 
God;  and  therefore  that  which  shall  take  you 
away  from  yourself  and  from  sin,  must  touch  you 
in  your  own  nature,  in  your  very  manner  of 
existence,  it  must  bring  about  the  change  in  your 
person,  in  your  outward  life,  and  thus  it  will  be 
an  holy  and  a  Divine  work,  which  does  not  take 
place  in  your  lips,  nor  in  your  brain,  but  in  the 
mystical  underground  of  your  being. 

And  this  wondrous  work  is  not  directly  brought 
about  by  the  Father,  and  in  every  one  by  him- 
self, but  is  effected  through  Christ,  is  bound  to 
him  as  Mediator  of  all,  and  finds  in  this  Mediator 
its  indestructible  guarantee.  For  the  tie  which 
Christ  establishes  between  himself  and  us,  is  so 
sacred,  that  he  compares  it  with  the  tie  that  binds 
him  in  his  Divine  nature  to  the  Father.  "I  in  them, 
and  Thou  in  me,  0  Holy  Father,  keep  through 
thine  own  name  those  whom  thou  hast  given  me, 
that  they  may  be  one,  as  we  are"  (John  17:11). 

No  outward,  mechanical  representation  should 
be  made  of  "the  body  of  Christ."  Among  our- 
selves we  speak  of  the  body,  the  corps,  the  cor- 
poration of  those  who  are  like  minded,  who  work 
together  for  a  given  aim.  They  who  belong  to 
it,  are  called  members,  and  the  management  is 
the  head.  But  with  the  body  of  Christ  all  this 
has  a  far  deeper  sense  and  a  far  more  serious  sig- 
nificance. No  one  becomes  member  of  the  body 
of  Christ  by  making  application,  or  by  subscrib- 
467 


ing  to  a  doctrine.  No  one  is  incorporated  in  this 
body  by  a  military  oath.  No  one  becomes  a 
member  here,  in  order  presently  from  choice,  to 
resign  his  membership.  No,  the  body  of  Christ 
is  anchored  in  the  soul,  as  an  organism  which 
forms  one  whole,  no  part  of  which  can  ever  be 
alienated  from  it.  It  is  invisible  to  the  eye,  but 
known  of  God.  Even  an  infant  can  belong  to  it 
as  an  integrant  part,  before  it  has  ever  lisped  the 
name  of  Jesus.  We  do  not  join  that  body,  but 
God  adopts  us  into  it,  incorporates  us  in  it  and 
appoints  each  of  us,  as  members  of  Christ,  an 
own,  fixed  place  in  it.  At  the  same  time  our 
calling  and  destiny  are  thereby  forever  fixed.  In 
this  body  we  are  fellow-members  with  other  mem- 
bers, not  from  our  choice,  nor  from  theirs,  but 
pursuant  to  Divine  disposal,  we  and  they  form 
a  unity  which  never  can  be  broken.  And  with 
them  all  we  are  under  Christ,  as  our  living,  quick- 
ening and  inspiring  head,  from  whom  alone 
warmth  of  love  is  obtained.  And  our  existence 
as  members  in  that  body  and  under  that  Head 
has  no  other  aim  than  through  the  mediator  to 
bring  us  near  to  God  again,  to  assure  us  of  an 
eternity  in  his  holy  presence,  and  thus  to  guar- 
antee the  highest  end  of  our  existence:  even  an 
existence  throughout  everlasting  ages  for  the  sake 
of  the  honor  of  the  thrice  holy  God. 

This  is  the  mystical  end,  which  the  mystical 
union  with  Christ  serves  as  means,  and  therefore 
Christ  intertwines  the  tie  that  binds  him  to  his 
own  with  the  tie  that  binds  him  to  the  Father 

468 


in  the:     "I  in  them  and  Thou  in  Me."    A  unity 
sealed  of  God, 

87 

'TOR  THE  SPIRIT  OF  GOD   RESTETH 
UPON  YOU." 

It  was  a  wonderful  word  which  Jesus  spake — 
one  which  still  pours  balm  into  many  wounds, 
and  revives  courage  when  ready  to  faint;  a,  word 
which  has  made  heroes  and  martyrs,  and  has 
strengthened  and  comforted  them — when  at  the 
end  of  the  beatitudes  he  said:  "Blessed  are  ye, 
when  men  shall  revile  you,  and  persecute  you, 
and  shall  say  all  manner  of  evil  against  you 
falsely,  for  my  sake." 

This  word  reaches  farther  than  the  prophecy, 
that  prison  and  martyrdom  awaited  the  disciples. 
These  would  be  limited  to  certain  periods  in  the 
struggle  of  Jesus'  church.  But  what  is  not  bound 
to  any  age,  but  always  goes  on,  is  the  malice  and 
hatred,  the  mockery,  scorn  and  disdain,  from 
which  the  world  can  not  restrain  itself,  whenever 
the  Lord's  people  gather  strength  to  oppose  it  and 
courage  to  resist  it.  Persecution  unto  blood  is 
exceptional.  This  other  persecution,  which  with 
the  lancet  of  scorn  and  abuse,  strikes  at  the  heart, 
goes  on  in  all  ages.  And  therefore,  this  beatitude 
of  the  Lord  enters  so  deeply  into  our  human  life. 
It  betrays  the  tender  sympathy  of  Jesus  for  what 
awaited  his  own.  It  finds  application,  now  here, 
now  there,  every  day.  No  day  passes  but  it 
imparts  courage  and  comfort.    It  does  not  mean 


that  we  should  defiantly  meet  the  world  that  is 
offended  at  Christ,  but  it  aims  to  inspire  the  dis- 
ciples of  the  Lord  to  stand  their  ground  when 
they  would  retreat,  and  to  remain  unmoved  in 
the  face  of  slander  and  disdain. 

But  do  not  forget  that  this  word  has  its  dan- 
gerous side,  because  it  has  often  been  misquoted 
and  misapplied.  This  depends  upon  that  which 
in  your  actions  and  words  makes  people  disdain 
and  persecute  you,  and  to  say  all  manner  of  evil 
against  you.  It  may  be  true  zeal  for  the  cause 
of  the  Lord,  but  it  may  also  be  exaggeration, 
eccentricity  or  loveless  bigotry;  or,  worse  yet,  it 
may  be  the  gap  that  yawns  between  your  con- 
fession and  practice,  hypocrisy  which,  in  part,  dis- 
figures your  life.  And  even  if  in  the  latter  case 
the  reason  of  resisting  the  world  may  be  zeal  for 
the  cause  of  Jesus,  yet,  in  fact,  so  much  of  self 
mingles  with  it  that  the  ''for  my  sake"  with  which 
Jesus  conditioned  his  beatitude,  only  partially 
applies  to  you.  Yea,  it  may,  and  does  happen, 
that  the  mockery,  disdain,  and  slander  of  the 
world,  is  invited  almost  so  exclusively  by  your 
own  sinful  alloy,  that  even  not  a  few  of  your 
fellow-believers  are  bound  to  take  the  part  of  the 
world  against  you,  and  far  from  calling  you 
blessed  in  Jesus'  name,  feel  instinctively  that  your 
example  has  hampered  rather  than  helped  the 
cause  of  the  Lord. 

Understand  this  well.  It  does  not  mean  to  say 
that  you  are  only  right,  when  the  world  honors 
your     loveableness     of     character,     acknowledges 

470 


your  honesty  and  uprightness,  and  pays  homage 
to  what  is  called  your  philanthropic  and  ethical 
nature.  The  world  has  demonstrated  this  dif- 
ferently in  the  case  of  Jesus  himself.  When  we 
do  nothing  else  in  the  name  of  Jesus  than  what 
the  world  can  praise,  that  which  is  characteristic 
in  our  confession  and  in  our  life  is  gone.  On 
ethical  grounds  nothing  could  be  said  against  the 
Apostles  of  the  Lord,  and  yet  the  world  has  dis- 
dained them,  and  has  not  rested  until  it  had 
hounded  them  to  the  death.  In  our  confession, 
life  and  zeal  there  must  always  be  that  w^hich  the 
world  can  not  tolerate,  which  offends  it  and  com- 
pels it  to  resist.  Only,  what  may  never  be  want- 
ing, if  the  beatitude  of  the  Lord  may  be  applied 
to  us,  is  what  Peter  (1-4:14)  states  as  follows: 
"If  ye  be  reproached  for  the  name  of  Christ, 
happy  are  ye;  for  the  spirit  of  glory  and  the 
Spirit  of  God  resteth  upon  you."  This  must  be 
so.  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  must  rest  upon  you, 
the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  must  speak  both  from 
what  you  do  and  from  what  you  leave  undone. 
It  must  not  be  against  you,  but  against  the  Spirit 
of  the  Lord,  that  the  fierce  anger  of  the  world 
turns  itself.  Then  you  are  reviled  for  Christ's 
sake,  and  from  this  disdain  springs  the  blessed- 
ness which  your  heart  craves. 

The  question  here  again  is  whether  you  are 
"near  unto  God,"  for  when  you  are  near  unto  God, 
God  is  near  unto  you,  and  then  the  world  turns 
not  against  you,  but  against  God,  and  only  against 
you,  in  the  measure  in  which  you  are  near  unto 

471 


God,  and  God  is  found  near  unto  you.  The  proof 
of  this  is,  that  as  soon  as  you  let  go  your  hold 
on  God,  the  world  is  ready  at  once  to  turn  its 
scorn  into  praise,  and  its  disdain  into  applause. 
There  is  undoubtedly  hatred  against  the  neigh- 
bor in  the  sin  of  the  world.  This  began  with  Cain. 
But  only  insofar  as  the  personal  hatred  of  ego- 
tism operates  against  one's  neighbor,  the  fire  of 
this  hatred  is  brought  to  burst  out  into  flame  by 
the  passion  for  personal  profit,  by  material 
interests,  by  the  struggle  for  position,  by  willful- 
ness and  jealousy.  This  hatred  of  the  world  is 
not  turned  against  Christian  people  in  particular, 
but  operates  at  large  in  the  world  itself. 

But  in  the  lowest  parts  of  the  sinful  human 
heart  there  is  no  hatred  against  the  neighbor,  but 
against  God.  Thus  it  began  with  Satan,  and  thus 
he  has  transferred  it  into  the  hearts  of  mankind. 
This  hatred  against  God  may  in  a  general  way 
express  itself  covertly,  and  only  rarely  turn  into 
open  denial  of  God  and  blasphemy.  But  it 
is  this  hatred,  which  propels  the  stream  of  the  life 
of  the  nations.  The  never-satisfied  passion  for 
emancipation.  The  ambition  to  be  one's  own 
lord  and  master,  and  to  own  no  God  as  Lord 
and  Master  above  self.  To  be  as  God  and  to  be 
God  himself,  and  unwillingness  to  bend  the  knee, 
is  the  evil  germ  from  which  all  sin  grows.  And 
because  the  Lord's  people  oppose  this,  and  loudly 
plead  for  God's  majesty,  the  world  turns  on  these 
people,  to  stop  their  mouth,  to  rob  them  of 
influence,  and  to  doom  them  to  inactivity. 
472 


I 


But  the  fire  of  this  hatred  only  breaks  out 
fiercely  and  unsparingly,  when  the  world  perceives 
that  it  is  no  more  you  who  speak  of  God  and 
bear  witness  for  him,  but  that  the  living  God 
himself  speaketh  in  you,  because  he  dwelleth  in 
you,  and  when  for  this  reason  it  can  strike  in 
you  at  God  himself  and  at  his  Christ.  When 
the  world  perceives  that  the  spirit  of  the  Lord 
rests  upon  you,  it  can  not  tolerate  you,  and 
puts  the  choice  before  you  between  letting  go  of 
God  and  its  deadly  hatred,  which  shall  not  rest, 
until  it  has  spiritually  or  morally  destroyed  you. 

To  be  near  unto  God,  so  near,  that  he  has 
made  your  heart  his  temple  and  has  come  to  you 
with  the  Christ,  in  order  to  take  up  his  abode 
with  you  in  the  Holy  Ghost,  is  glorious,  blessed, 
sweet  mysticism  of  the  soul;  but  there  is  more. 
The  heart  can  be  no  bushel  to  hide  the  light 
that  shines  in  you.  When  the  Spirit  of  God  truly 
rests  upon  you,  that  light  shines  out,  and  he 
who  hardens  himself  against  that  light  will  come 
not  at  once  but  gradually  to  discover,  that  you 
are  one  who  stands  in  contact  with  the  living 
God,  and  that  he  who  has  dealings  with  you, 
of  himself  comes  to  have  dealings  with  that 
holy  power  which  is  the  Lord's.  And  then  opposi- 
tion follows,  not  on  account  of  secondary  inter- 
ests, not  because  of  accidentals,  but  because  of 
what  is  highest  and  most  glorious  in  you. 

When  Asaph  sang  of  the  blessedness  of  being 
near  unto  God,  his  mind  was  engaged  with  this 
antithesis    between    the    world    and    God.      This 

473 


antithesis  can  not  be  separated  from  the  near- 
ness to  God.  The  nearer  we  are  to  the  world, 
the  farther  away  we  are  from  God.  And  the 
nearer  we  are  to  God,  the  greater  the  distance 
between  us  and  the  world.  If  it  were  possible 
for  us  to  go  out  from  the  world,  after  we  have 
come  near  unto  God,  there  would  no  conflict 
break  out  in  the  heart  and  no  hatred  in  the  world 
against  us.  But  this  cannot  be.  '*I  pray  thee 
O  Father,  not  that  thou  shouldest  take  them  out 
of  the  world,  but  that  in  the  world  thou  shouldest 
keep  them  from  the  evil"  (John  17:15).  The 
grave  significance  of  the  Cliristian  position  is, 
that  with  God  in  the  heart,  life  has  to  be  lived 
in  the  midst  of  a  world,  the  heart  and  life  of 
which  reacts  against  God.  It  has  indeed  been 
tried,  as  Christian  so  to  appear,  that  the  world 
hands  out  a  passport  and  grants  you  an  honorary 
diploma  as  one  who  "though  Christian,  can  be 
tolerated;"  but  this  seductive  exhibition  of  favor 
is  not  bought  at  anytime,  save  at  the  price  of 
dullijig  the  sharp   edges   of   our  confession. 

If  the  world  could  make  such  separation  be- 
tween you  and  the  God  whom  you  profess  and 
whom  you  serve,  that  it  could  prosecute  its 
opposition  to  God  without  touching  you,  it 
would  readily  do  so.  The  world  still  feels  itself 
bound  to  3-ou  as  man.  But  with  true  followers 
of  Christ,  this  can  not  be  done.  They  are  so 
near  unto  God,  that  the  eye  of  the  world  dis- 
covers no  more  distance.  And  therefore  it  attacks 
you  personally  by  making  the  most  of  anything 
wTong  it  discovers  in  you,  by  mocking  at  every 

474 


unsanctified  utterance,  which  is  observed  in  you, 
and  then  falsely  and  slanderously  saying  all 
manner  of  evil  against  you.  To  be  near  unto 
God  and  to  bear  this  trouble,  belong  together. 
In  such  a  way  however  that  it  must  never  be 
courted;  the  world  must  never  be  incited  to  it 
by  your  desire  after  the  martyr  crown.  Only 
what  is  altogether  natural  and  springs  up  of  itself 
is  inwardly  true  and  has  merit  before  God.  And 
then  blessedness  ensues  not  only  later  on  but 
is  already  tasted  in  the  midst  of  oppression,  and 
then  God's  angels  see  and  God's  children  perceive 
already  here,  that  in  the  midst  of  trouble  the  Spirit 
of   glory,   the   Spirit    of   God   resteth   upon   you. 


ONE   AFTER   THIS   MANNER,   AND 
ANOTHER   AFTER   THAT. 

There  is  an  evil  among  devout  friends  of  the 
Lord,  which  must  be  resisted.  In  spiritual  things 
each  desires  to  impose  a  law  of  his  own  upon  the 
other.  Piety  is  said  to  be  bound  to  a  given 
form.  One's  own  way  of  piety  must  be  the 
standard  for  every  one  else.  Minor  differences 
may  be  tolerated,  but  in  the  main  the  same  sort 
of  piety  must  manifest  itself  in  all  God's  children 
alike.  And  so  it  follows  that  the  piety  which  they 
practice  is  the  standard  for  all  their  spiritual 
examination   and-  criticism. 

That  pride  may  have  a  part  in  this,  can  not 
be  doubted.  But  in  this  instance,  at  least  at 
476 


the  beginning,  pride  is  not  the  motive.  It  is 
rather  that  a  beginning  is  made  from  the  earnest 
desire  to  belong  to  the  people  of  God,  partly  as 
an  assurance  of  one's  own  salvation,  but  more 
for  the  sake  of  taking  an  active  part  in  the  work 
of  sanctifying  the  name  of  the  Lord,  and  of 
advancing   the  interests  of  his  Kingdom. 

In  the  family  circle,  or  outside  of  it,  one  meets 
with  those  who  carry  the  impression  of  tender 
piety,  and  who  are  reputed  in  general  to  be  very 
godly.  Such  people  are  envied.  0,  if  one  could 
only  himself  be  such.  And  so  he  sought  their 
company,  watched  them,  observed  what  they  did, 
and  what  they  did  not  do,  listened  to  their  con- 
versation, and  so  gradually  formed  an  idea  of 
what  he  himself  should  be,  in  order  to  be  in- 
itiated equally  closely,  as  one  of  God's  dear 
children  into  his  secret  walk.  Thereby  a  de- 
finite type  of  piety  was  brought  before  his  mind. 
According  to  this  fixed  type,  he  sought  to  reform 
his  life  in  the  world,  his  life  before  believers,  and 
his  life  before  God.  And  when  he  finally  succeded 
in  this,  he  rejoiced  as  one  who  had  gained  a  prize, 
was  over-rejoiced  when  he  became  adopted  by  "the 
pious"  as  one  of  their  own,  and  now  is  fully  con- 
vinced that  every  one  else  must  come  in  the  self- 
same way,  must  correspond  to  the  selfsame  type, 
must  have  the  selfsame  experiences,  yea,  that 
in  their  language  and  expressions  they  must 
manifest  the  very  thing  which  as  an  ideal  had 
long  escaped  the  censor  himself,  but  which  at 
length  he  had  obtained. 

476 


Our  fathers  used  to  say,  that  this  is  putting 
oneself  in  the  place  of  the  Word  of  God.  Not 
from  oneself,  nor  from  any  saint  whatever, 
but  exclusively  from  God's  Word  the  stand- 
ard must  be  derived  which  determines  gen- 
iune  childship,  and  the  true  gold  of  our  god- 
liness. These  censors  did  not  deny  this;  only 
they  tried  to  show  that  God's  Word  posits  the 
claims  and  marks  of  true  grace,  which  they 
themselves  imposed  upon  you,  and  which  they 
sternly  applied  in  their  own  circle.  But  one 
thing  they  forgot,  and  this  became  the  cause  of  all 
this  injurious  spiritual  unnaturalness ;  they  did 
not  see,  that  God's  word,  as  in  every  thing  else 
allows  play-room  in  the  spiritual  life  for  very 
great  diversity,  and  in  this  very  diversitj'-  seeks 
strength. 

This  does  not  mean  to  say,  that  the  Scripture 
acknowledges  two  classes  of  spiritual  children. 
There  is  but  one  class,  but  in  this  one  true  class 
the  Scripture  aims  at  an  almost  endless  diversity, 
an  ever  new  variegation,  an  ever  surprising  in- 
dividuality, change  and  modification  in  all  sorts 
of  ways;  not  only  in  the  groups,  but  in  each 
separate  child  of  God.  It  is  with  this  as  in  the 
world  of  flowers.  The  rose  constitutes  a  class  of 
its  own.  No  one  will  mistake  a  rose  for  a  lily, 
or  take  a  field  violet  for  a  rose.  To  be  a  real 
rose,  it  must  exhibit  certain  characteristics,  or 
else  it  is  not  a  rose.  But  what  endless  variety 
there  is  between  the  monthly  rose  and  the 
swamp-rose,  the  tea-rose  and  the  Alpine-rose. 
477 


What  varieties  again  in  each  of  these  groups 
what  difference  again  in  growth,  leaf,  color  and 
in  fragrance.  Does  not  every  more  richly  devel- 
oped rose  addre^  us  as  a  something  by  itself, 
with  a  charm  and  beauty  all  its  own? 

Such  is  the  case  in  the  whole  creation  of  God. 
He  calls  every  star  in  the  firmament  by  name,  and 
this  implies  the  expression  of  an  own  being..  And 
on  the  earth  every  mountain-line  differs,  and  every 
animal,  even  every  insect,  as  well  as  every  veget- 
able and  food  that  springs  from  the  ground. 
And  in  like  manner  every  one  of  the  children  of 
men  is  "after  his  own  kind;"  every  race,  every 
tribe,  every  people,  every  family  and  every 
family-member  differs  from  every  other.  No 
mother  is  ever  mistaken  in  her  children.  And 
so  it  is  also  in  the  spiritual.  The  Holy  Spirit 
divideth  to  every  man  severally  as  he  will,  (I  Cor. 
12:11)  or  to  express  it  still  more  strongly:  one  can 
not  be  a  standard  for  an  other.  Paul  who  was  him- 
self an  Apostle  refuses  to  be  this.  And  he  declares 
with  utmost  emphasis:  Every  man,  i.  e.  each 
individual,  hath  his  proper  gift  of  God,  one  after 
this  manner,  and  another  after  that  (I  Cor.  7:7). 

So  it  is,  and  so  it  must  be,  because  our  spiritual 
life,  if  it  shall  be  real,  is  not  our  work,  but  a 
work  of  God.  It  is  a  difference  as  between  writ- 
ing and  printing.  Wliat  comes  from  the  press  is 
in  all  the  copies  of  the  same  work  precisely 
alike.  Every  man's  handwriting  on  the  other 
hand  exhibits  a  character  of  its  own.  It  is  the 
difference  between  the  products  of  nature  and  the 
478 


factory.  A  factory  manufactures  after  a  fixed 
model,  everything  alike;  in  nature  in  which  God 
works,  everything  differs  and  everything  exhibits 
a  something  of  its  own. 

If  now  the  spiritual  life  of  piety  is  forced  into 
a  selfsame  mould,  the  work  of  man  counteracts 
the  work  of  God;  then  there  ensues  spiritual 
unnaturalness,  painted  flowers,  but  no  real  flowers ; 
then  no  virtue  goes  out  from  it,  and  this  sort  of 
imprinted  piety  does  not  bring  one  nearer  to 
God,  but  rather  builds  up  a  wall  of  separation 
between  the  soul  and  God.  Then  there  is 
spiritual  dullness,  depression  and  gloom,  whereas 
God's  children  should  glory  in  their  freedom, 
and  by  reason  of  this  free,  happy  feehng  of 
the  breaking  of  bands  they  should  jubilate  with 
a  song  of  angels  in  the  heart.  The  lark  which 
meets  the  sun  with  a  song,  not  the  snail  which 
marks  its  slimy  track  on  the  hard  clay,  is  the 
image  of  the  redeemed  in  Christ. 

Only  let  not  liberty  here  be  mistaken  for 
license.  Every  bird  sings  with  a  voice  of  its  own, 
but  received  that  voice  from  God.  And  so  has 
God,  who  created  you,  implanted  and  increated  in 
the  hidden  depths  of  your  being  that  peculiar 
something  from  which  your  character,  your  per- 
son and  likewise  your  own  form  of  childship 
springs.  Everything  in  us  also  is  organically  con- 
nected. The  mingling  of  blood,  the  sensitive 
life  of  nerves,  the  relation  between  understanding 
and  imagination,  the  stringing  of  the  heart,  the 
embroidery    of    tendencies    and    sympathies,    the 

479 


tone-scale  of  the  conscience,  susceptibility  to 
emotions  and  sensations,  education,  environment, 
business,  all  this  together  puts  a  peculiar  stamp 
upon  our  whole  spiritual  being.  One  is  after 
this  manner,  and  another  after  that.  And  in 
connection  with  this  the  Holy  Spirit  divides  his 
spiritual  gifts,  without  mistake,  and  not  as  we 
would  have  it,  or  as  another  would  suggest,  but 
even  as  he  wills.  Spiritual  uniformity  after  a 
given  pattern  is  here  unthinkable.  As  God 
clothes  the  lilies  of  the  field  differently,  so  he 
weaves  an  own  spiritual  garment  for  each  one  of 
his  children.  Uniformity  must  be  discarded,  and 
our  spiritual  robe  must  unfold  itself  singly  before  ^ 
God  and  men. 

As  every  precious  stone  has  a  light  of  its  own, 
and  no  jasper  can  be  an  emerald,  so  in  one's  heart 
the  diamond  of  childship  must  sparkle  with  its 
own  brightness.  Then  only  will  the  secret  walk 
with  God  be  free,  and  rich,  and  broad,  for  only 
so  do  we  appear  before  our  God  and  Father  in 
the  form,  in  the  spiritual  robe,  and  with  the 
spiritual  jewels,  which  he  has  given  his  children. 
To  draw  near  unto  God  is  not  going  in  with 
the  crowd,  but  it  is  the  approach  to  God  in  this 
own,  this  particular,  this  personal,  this  peculiar 
way,  which  God  has  appointed  for  us.  A  mother 
knows  each  of  her  children  by  their  own  voice, 
even  when  she  does  not  see  them;  and  so  does 
our  Father  in  heaven  know  each  of  his  children 
by  their  own  voice,  which  he  draws  out  from 
the  soul. 

480 


89 

"A  SOUND  OF  GENTLE  STILLNESS." 

"To  be  near  unto  God"  is  not  alike  in  every 
case,  but,  even  as  with  everything  else  that 
touches  life  intimately,  it  is  with  *'one  after 
this  manner,  and  with  another  after  that."  They 
who  have  drifted  away  in  the  stream  of  meth- 
odism,  have  not  realized  this,  at  least  they  have 
not  acknowledged  it,  and  hence  the  danger  in 
methodism  of  barrenness  in  spiritual  things. 
Always  doing  outside  things,  always  zealous  labor 
and  toil  for  Jesus,  but  so  little  sound  of  gentle 
stillness,    in   which   the   secret    walk   is    enjoyed. 

Because  of  our  sin  there  is  always  danger  of 
fatal  onesidedness,  even  in  holiest  things.  There 
is  sickly  mysticism,  which  sits  down  by  itself 
and  accomplishes  nothing.  And  by  the  side  of  it 
methodism,  which  is  never  at  rest,  and  which  in 
being  over-busy  at  length  has  neither  ear  nor  eye 
for  the  inwardness  of  the  holy  walk  of  a  saved 
soul  with  God.  And  therefore,  the  mystic  has 
something  to  learn  from  the  methodist,  and  the 
methodist  from  the  mystic.  Only  from  the  im- 
pulse of  both  does  blessed  harmony  arise. 

By  itself  a  mystical  search  after  the  Divine 
is  by  no  means  yet '  Christian.  The  heathen  in 
Asia  practice  it,  even  on  a  large  scale,  and  though 
it  has  mostly  disappeared  from  Islam,  it  has  been 
practiced  there,  and  it  is  still  known  among  the 
Sufi  in  Persia  and  by  the  Dervishes  in  Asia 
Minor.  But  to  bear  the  Christian  stamp  nearness 
to  God  must  be  through  the  atonement  and 
relation  with   the   mediator.     "The  Father  and  I 

481 


will  come  and  make  our  abode  with  them"  (John 
14:23).  And  this  excludes  from  the  search  after 
God  and  from  being  near  unto  him,  the  always 
killing  uniformity.  In  this  sacred  domain  imita- 
tion leads  to  nothing  but  selfdeceit.  All  mystic- 
ism of  soul,  which  seeks  and  finds  God,  realizes 
that  there  is  fixedness  and  unvariable  sameness  in 
God's  unchangeableness,  but  the  reflection  of 
what  is  Unique  and  Eternal  in  God,  which  is  cast 
into  the  human  soul,  cannot  be  and  never  is  the 
same,  because  one  soul  differs  from  another  soul 
in  nature,  disposition  and  utterance.  For  this 
reason  every  soul  has  a  history  of  its  own,  from 
which  special  needs  and  talents  arise. 

Hence  it  is  not  corect  to  infer  from  Elijah's 
experience  at  the  cave,  that  the  Lord  only  reveals 
himself  in  ''A  sound  of  gentle  stillness"  (I  Kings 
19:12  R.  V.  Marg-re<ading) .  The  commlission 
that  was  given  to  Elijah,  shows  differently .  He 
was  commissioned  to  annoint  Jehu,  to  which  was 
added  the  saying:  "Him  that  escapeth  the  Sword 
of  Hazael  shall  Jehu  slay:  And  him  that  escapeth 
from  the  sword  of  Jehu  shall  Elisha  slay"  (I  Kings 
19:17).  There  never  was  a  bolder  fanatic  than 
Jehu.  Not  in  the  fire,  and  not  in  the  storm,  but 
in  a  sound  of  gentle  stillness,  does  not  say  by 
any  means,  that  Moses  did  not  find  God  in  the 
fire  of  Horeb,  nor  David  in  the  storm  of  per- 
secution by  Saul.  It  only  states,  that  for  Elijah, 
at  that  moment  and  in  the  mood  in  which  he 
found  himself,  the  heat  had  first  to  be  cooled, 
and  the  storm  in  his  heart  had  first  to  spend 
itself,  before  he  was  able  to  meet  God  in  a  sound 
of  gentle  stillness,  and  to  receive  his  prophetic 
commission.  On  Carmel  it  was  fire  and  it  was 
482 


storm,  and  if  ever  and  anywhere,  it  was  on 
Carmel  that  Elijah  beheld  the  presence  of  the 
majesty  of  the  Lord. 

The  impossibility  of  making  a  rule  regarding 
nearness  to  God,  that  shall  apply  to  all  cases, 
extends  so  far,  that  a  selfsame  rule  for  all  of 
life,  even  with  one  and  the  selfsame  child  of  God, 
is  unthinkable.  He  who  is  old  and  full  of  days 
has  known  the  years  of  manly  strength,  and  back 
of  these  the  years  of  j^outh,  and  back  of  these 
again  the  days  of  childhood.  And  let  him 
speak,  w^ho  during  these  four  periods  of  his 
life  has  known  something  of  the  sacred,  hidden 
walk  with  God,  and  he  will  confess  that  in  each 
of  these  four  periods  it  was  different.  In  general 
indeed  there  was  progress,  but  yet  in  such  a  way, 
that  now  as  man  he  longs  at  times  for  the  return 
of  the  days  of  his  childhood,  that  he  might  the 
better  understand  the  saying  of  Jesus  regarding 
children:    "Of  such  is  the  Kingdom  of  heaven." 

This  makes  it  such  a  profanation  of  the  sacred, 
when  we  parents  have  no  eye  for  the  peculiar 
character  of  the  life  of  the  soul  of  a  child,  and 
by  our  heavy  oppressive  forms  ignore  the  sym- 
plicity.  the  brightness  and  enthusiasm  of  the  child. 
The  spiritual  training  of  a  child  starts  with 
faith  that  God  operates  in  the  child,  or  at  least 
can  operate  in  him.  But  at  the  same  time,  that 
the  Holy  spirit  doeth  this  "as  he  wills''  (I  Cor. 
12:11).  Without  this  spiritual  insight  it  is  im- 
possible to  be  a  mother,  father,  older  sister  or 
brother,  yea,  even  a  nurse-maid  or  a  teacher  of 
children,  in  its  higher  sense.  Love  of  children 
wrongly  applied  blights  so  much  in  the  heart 
of    the     child     which     otherwise     ^.ould     bloom 

483 


luxuriantly.  And  as  with  the  child,  so  it  is  with 
the  lad  and  the  young  daughter.  In  every  period 
of  life  there  is  an  own  form  of  life  of  the  soul 
with  its  own  needs.  He  who  understands  this 
pleases  and  disciplines,  supports  and  strengthens 
the  child,  and  leads  him  to  God,  and  so  makes 
gains  for  God.  While  he  who  always  endeavors 
to  apply  the  model  of  his  own  condition  of  soul 
to  that  of  the  child  mars  development  and  dwarfs 
it. 

It  is  not  othenvise  with  the  great  difference 
which  God  has  ordained  between  man  and  woman. 
There  are  men  who  make  one  think  of  a  woman, 
and  among  women  in  our  times  ambition  gains 
ground  not  only  to  develop  themselves  more 
independently,  which  is  right,  but  also  to  obtain 
this  development  in  a  form  like  to  man;  which 
goes  against  Divine  appointment..  But  apart 
from  these  eccentricities,  every  one  feels,  and 
knows  that  the  soul-life  of  women  bears  another 
stamp,  and  is  differently  strung  of  God,  than  the 
soul-life  of  men.  Perceptions,  powers,  feelings, 
talents  differ.  The  lily  is  not  inferior  to  the  palm- 
tree,  but  is  has  received  another  beauty,  another 
glorj^  of  God.  The  same  sun  in  Go(l,s  heaven 
works  different  effects  upon  one  plant  than  upon 
another.  , 

And  so  it  is  with  regard  to  being  near  to  God 
on  the  part  of  the  man,  and  being  near  to  God  on 
the  part  of  the  woman.  It  is  the  one  Sun  of 
righteousness  which  works  differently  upon  each. 
The  mother,  the  father,  who  looks  upon  son  and 
daughter  as  one,  and  does  not  treat  them  differ- 
ently sometimes  spoils  so  much  which  with  more 
intelligent  insight  would  bloom  gloriously.     Only 

484 


father  and  mother  can  suffice  for  the  mixed 
family,  and  where  either  of  the  two  falls  away, 
the  task  of  the  remaining  one  of  making  due 
allowance  for  the  difference  of  nature  and  dis- 
position of  son  and  daughter  is  extremely  dif- 
ficult. This  applies  as  well  to  man  and  wife 
especially  when  one  has  made  farther  advances 
in  the  way  of  salvation  than  the  other.  The 
pious  wife  who  longs  to  win  the  hesitating  husband 
defeats  her  own  purpose,  when  she  aims  to 
graft  her  feminine  soul-life  upon  him ;  likewise  the 
husband  who  for  the  sake  of  winning  his  wife 
for  God  tries  to  drive  her  in  the  spiritual  yoke 
of  his  own  masculine  life,  is  himself  the  cause  of 
his  bitter  disappointment.  The  husband  should 
indeed  strengthen  the  wife  spiritually,  and  accus- 
tom her  to  storm  and  fire,,  and  the  wife  should  re- 
fine the  husband  spiritually,  and  accustom  him  to 
the  sound  of  gentle  stillness,  but  the  fundamental 
trait  of  the  proper  soul-life  of  each  must  remain 
inviolate.  The  wife  lives  near  unto  God  differ- 
entl}'  from  the  husband. 

A  similar  difference  characterizes  the  several 
conditions  in  which  we  find  ourselves.  Take  the 
ecclesiastical  conflict.  In  this  struggle  there  is 
a  period  of  necessary  and  unsparing  resistance 
against  everything  that  desecrates  God's  covenant. 
But  after  victory  is  won,  there  comes  a  time  of 
calm  and  peace,  of  quiet  work  for  God's  King- 
dom, in  the  struggle  against  sin,  misery  and  woe. 
And  it  is  frequently  observed,  that  men  who  in 
the  first  period  nobly  persevered,  and  showed  in 
themselves  men  full  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  in  the 
next  period  of  rest  and  peace,  visibly  retrograded, 
and  deserted  their  former  spiritual  vantage-ground. 

485 


And  as  in  ecclesiastical  affairs  so  it  is  in  the 
struggle  of  our  own  life,  in  the  difference  be- 
tween rising  superior  to  one's  sins  and  fainting 
in  the  face  of  too  great  temptation.  All  this 
creates  a  difference  of  conditions,  of  circumstances, 
of  sensations,  of  experiences  of  soul;  and  woe 
to  him  who  amidst  all  this,  has  only  one  string 
to  the  harp  of  his  soul..  Our  heart  has  been 
richly  strung  of  God,  and  for  every  turn  in  life 
the  heart  must  be  able  to  play  another  string, 
for  the  sake  of  the  honor  of  God  and  the  com- 
fort of  our  hidden  man. 

The  example  of  Elijah  shows  that  God  himself 
counts  with  this,  and  after  the  nature  of  our 
state  approaches  our  heart  from  different  angles. 
He  alone  who  has  a  listening  ear  for  this,  who 
adapts  and  disposes  himself  accordingly,  and  is 
inwardly  so  richly  disposed,  that  he  seeks  after 
God  at  any  gate  which  it  may  please  God  in 
those  circumstances  to  open  for  him,  will  not 
only  feel  himself  "to  be  near  unto  God,"  in  all  cir- 
cumstances, but  will  also  in  every  circumstance 
enjoy  it  most  richly.  At  one  time  in  quiet 
meditation,  at  another  in  bitter  conflict,  now 
going  out,  then  coming  in,  but  at  all  times  it 
will  be  vital,  inspiring  and  strong. 

God's  seeking  to  draw  our  soul  unto  himself 
and  to  open  it  for  himself,  is  changeable  as  the 
seasons  in  which  nature  undergoes  the  workings 
of  the  sun.  And  therefore  he  who  spiritually 
knows  only  one  season  of  year,  becomes  impover- 
ished. He  who  follows  after,  in  the  changes 
which  God  brings  upon  him,  is  the  rich  child  of 
the  rich   Father  who  is  in  heaven. 

486 


90 

"THOU  DIDST  MAKE  ME  TRUST  WHEN 

I  WAS  UPON  MY  MOTHER'S 

BREASTS." 

The  secret  walk  with  God  is  not  only  different 
for  one  child  of  God  than  for  another,  but  the 
difference  is  inwardly  connected  with  individual 
disposition,  character,  nature  and  temperament. 
Where  there  are  two  persons  who  live  close  to 
God,  one  not  only  doeth  it  differently  from  the 
other,  but  the  way  and  manner  in  it  of  each, 
is  related  with  his  condition  and  frame  of  soul 
and  even  of  body.  To  be  near  unto  God  can 
therefore  never  be  imitated.  It  is  no  lesson  that 
can  be  learned  by  heart.  Every  one  must  seek 
his  own  way  to  God,  until  by  Divine  grace  he 
finds  it.  To  be  near  unto  God  can  never  be  any- 
thing else  than  the  outcome  and  the  fruit  of  our 
own  personal  spiritual  life.  If  then  it  shall  be 
real,  and  no  imitation,  it  is  bound  to  assume  a 
form  of  its  own,  which  entirely  corresponds  to 
our  nature,  and  which  would  not  do  for  another. 

Let  this  first  of  all  comfort  you  and  put  you 
at  ease.  It  frequently  happens,  that  a  dear,  true 
but  very  plain  child  of  God  hears  others  tell 
of  a  walk  with  God,  which  he  can  not  grasp, 
or  that  he  reads  of  Augustine  and  others,  who 
communed  with  the  Eternal  Being  in  a  mea- 
sure and  form  that  far,  very  far  transcends  his 
own  experience.  This  makes  him  doubt  whether 
he  will  ever  himself  come  near  unto  God.  Such 
it  can  never  be  with  him  and  yet,  such  the 
hidden  walk  must  be.  In  this  way  Satan  detains 
the  souls  of  the  humble.  For  it  is  not  so.    With 

487 


Augustine,  that  great  spirit,  it  must  needs  be  so 
and  not  otherwise,  and  ^or  this  very  reason  it 
never  can  and  never  will  be  so  with  the  humble 
and  the  plain.  As  it  was  with  Augustine  or  Calvin 
would  not  meet  their  case. 

But  next  to  this  comforting  thought,  it  con- 
tains a  strong  stimulus  and  a  spur.  It  imposes 
the  obligation  to  produce  from  one's  own  being 
and  in  connection  with  one's  own  spiritual  existence 
and  life  of  the  soul  an  own  form  for  the  hidden 
walk  with  God.  It  will  not  do  to  saj^:  I  can 
never  attain  the  height  of  an  Augustine.  Just 
because  j^ou  are  not  an  Augustine,  it  will  not 
do  to  imitate  him.  For  you  are  called  of  God, 
and  you  are  bound,  to  seek  from  and  for  your- 
self, this  own  and  only  path,  by  which  you, 
and  no  one  else,  can  attain  the  hidden  walk, 
and  continue  in  it.  This  does  not  mean  to  say 
that  there  ma\'  be  no  blessing  in  learning  how 
others  have  sought  and  found  it,  or  that  reading 
what  some  great  spirits  have  written  about  their 
nearness  to  God  maj^  not  inwardly  edify  us. 
Even  the  humblest  poet  can  learn  from  Bilderdyk 
and  DaCosta.  The  humblest  artist-painter  can 
profit  by  the  works  of  Rubens  and  Rembrandt. 
All  this  can  be  productive  of  great  good.  Only, 
as  'one  and  the  selfsame  bread  forms  an  own 
blood  in  every  individual  constitution,  and  main- 
tains an  own  life  of  the  nerves,  thanks  to  the 
inner  workings,  so  also  it  is  one  sacred  material 
on  which  many  subsist,  but  alwaj'^s  in  this  way, 
that  with  every  individual  the  inner  spiritual 
feeding  has  a  process  of  its  own,  and  leads  to  an 
own  result. 

Not  only  in  the  case  of  Paul,  but  also  of 
488 


Jeremiah  and  David  the  Scripture  describes  this 
particular  character  of  every  individual's  hidden 
walk  with  the  Eternal  Being.  Although  Psalm  22 
bears  a  strongly  marked  Messianic  character,  and 
although  this  song  of  the  most  grievous  woe 
only  attains  its  fullest  significance  in  its  applica- 
tion to  the  Man  of  Sorrows,  it  would  be  mislead- 
ing, if  we  did  not  take  it  as  an  interpretation  of 
David's  own  experience,  and  if  we  did  not  apply 
it  to  the  Psalmist  first. 

As  St.  Paul  declares,  Gal.  1:15,  that  it  hath 
pleased  God  to  separate  him  from  his  mother's 
womb,  and  to  call  him  by  his  grace,  and  as  it 
reads  in  Jeremiah  (1:5)  "Before  I  formed  thee 
in  the  belly  I  knew  thee;  and  before  thou  camest 
forth  out  of  the  womb,  I  sanctified  thee,"  so  also 
David  confesses  that  the  Lord's  interest  in  him 
began  before  he  was  bom.  "For  thou  art  he," 
sang  he  in  Ps  22:9,  "that  took  me  out  of  the 
womb:  Thou  didst  make  me  trust  when  I 
was  upon  my  mother's  breasts:  I  was  cast  upon 
thee  from  the  womb.  Thou  art  my  God  from 
my  mother's  belly." 

Entirely  apart  from  the  deeper  significance  of 
these  words  when  applied  to  the  Messiah,  it  was 
froni  the  life  of  David's  own  soul  that  this  con- 
viction sprang  regarding  his  own  walk  with  God, 
and  it  should  not  be  lost  from  sight,  that  entirely 
apart  from  his  calling  as  the  elect  servant  of  the 
Lord,  he  apphes  it  altogether  in  a  general  sense 
to  the  forming  and  creation  of  a  human  being. 
"Thou  hast  covered  me  in  my  mother's  womb.  I 
will  praise  thee;  for  I  am  fearfully  and  wonder- 
fully made,  marvellous  are  the  works;  and  that 
my  soul  knoweth  right  well.     My  substance  was 


not  hid  from  thee,  when  I  was  made  in  secret 
and  curiously  wrought  in  the  lowest  part  of  the 
earth.  Thine  eyes  did  see  my  substance,  yet 
being  unperfect;  and  in  thy  book  all  my  members 
were  written,  which  in  continuance  were  fashioned, 
when  as  yet  these  was  none  of  them."  Psalm  139: 
13-16).  This  was  said  apart  from  David's  special 
calling  in  an  altogether  general  way,  and  the 
church  has  never  hesitated,  in  singing  Psalm  139, 
to  apply  this  to  herself. 

Thus,  in  order  to  form  a  just  estimate  of  the 
beginning  and  the  development  of  our  hidden 
walk  with  God,  we  have  to  go  back  not  merely 
to  our  conversion,  but  back  of  this  to  our  con- 
ception and  to  our  birth.  The  way  in  which 
each  one  of  us  shall  find  his  own,  personal  walk 
with  God,  was  written  in  God's  book,  in  days  be- 
fore we  were  born. 

If  it  is  said  that  Jeremiah  and  Paul  did  not 
state  this  fact  in  connection  with  their  personal 
initiation  into  communion  with  God,  but  very 
distinctly  in  connection  with  their  special  call- 
ings, one  as  prophet,  and  the  other  as  apostle, 
it  is  readily  granted.  But  on  the  other  hand  it 
is  equally  true,  that  for  their  callings,  as  prophet 
and  apostle,  their  own  personal,  spiritual  develop- 
ment was  of  hiehest  significance.  In  their  pro- 
phetic and  apostolic  calling  they  had  to  fight 
the  spiritual  fight.  Their  official  life  was  not 
lived  outside  of  the  life  of  their  own  soul.  The 
fact  that  before  their  conception  God  had  fore- 
ordained in  them  everything  that  they  would 
need  for  their  calling,  also  implies  that  their 
spiritual  quickening,  training  and  development  had 
been  provided  from  God's  side  before  their  birth, 

490 


and  that  in  their  conception  and  in  their  birth 
such  a  human  person  was  called  into  being,  as 
would  be  able  to  enter  upon  such  a  spiritual 
condition  and  to  fulfill  such  a  spiritual  calling. 
In  whatever  way  therefore  we  take  it,  the  three 
strong  declarations  of  David,  Jeremiah  and  Paul 
always  contain  this  positive  teaching,  that  already 
before,  as  well  as  in  their  conception  and  birth, 
the  Lord  God  has  ordained  and  created  them  in 
such  a  way,  both  after  soul  and  bod}^  that  in 
their  spiritual  and  bodily  creation  every  necessity 
had  been  provided,  which  later  on  would  fashion 
them  in  this  especial  manner,  and  construct  their 
spiritual  stature. 

Applying  this  to  ourselves,  we  should  not 
doubt  but  that  our  conception  and  birth,  quite 
apart  from  our  own  as  yet  unconscious  condition, 
was  a  work  of  God  according  to  God's  plan  and 
compass,  and  under  his  holy  inworking.  That 
which  characterizes  the  disposition  of  our  soul,  our 
gifts  and  talents,  our  form  of  existence,  and  even 
the  particulars  that  concern  our  body,  is  no  play 
of  chance,  no  arbitrariness,  no  fate,  but  the  plan 
and  working  of  our  Providential  God.  Hence 
we  are  not  made,  as  we  are,  in  order  that  only 
later  on  God  might  see  what  he  might  make  of 
us.  No,  everything  here  has  been  thought  out. 
everything  here  forms  one  whole,  everything  here 
has  been  appointed  from  the  beginning  by  an 
omniscient,  fore-seeing  and  almighty  God  with 
a  view  to  the  appointed  end,  and  directed  at  the 
same  time,  at  every  point  of  the  way,  with 
the  view  of  obtaining  that  end. 

If  that  final  end  is  your  eternal  salvation,  and 

491 


if  the  spiritual  life  of  the  soul,  including  the 
secret  walk  with  God,  leads  to  this  end,  the 
whole  appointment  regarding  the  form  in  which 
you  were  to  be  born,  both  after  soul  and  body, 
was  of  necessity  directly  connected  with  what 
you  once  will  be  as  a  child  of  God,  and  with 
the  particular  wa}''  in  which  God  will  be  willing 
to  receive  you,  in  distinction  from  others,  into 
his  holy,  secret  walk.  If  in  your  intercourse  with 
people,  you  daily  meet  with  those  who  have  much 
in  common  vAth  you,  and  you  with  them,  but 
never  meet  with  a  person  of  whom  you  can  say, 
in  every  particular:  "He  is  just  like  me.  He  is  my 
exact  double,"  there  must  be  something  in  the 
disposition  of  your  soul  and  in  your  bodilj' 
existence,  which  is  different  from  that  in  others. 
And  this  is  not  by  chance,  but  after  God's  will 
and  appointment.  And  every  pecuharity  that 
constitutes  your  person,  is  in  turn  no  play  of 
the  riches  of  nature,  but  has  been  so  disposed  and 
not  otherwise,  because  each  of  you  have  to  seek 
your  secret  walk  with  God  in  your  own  way  and 
after  your  own  method;  and  that  you  might  find 
that  way,  and  walk  in  it,  you  were  in  need  of  just 
such  a  disposition  of  soul,  and  of  such  natural 
temperament. 

Thus  are  you  free  from  people,  even  from 
pious  people  who  press  their  piety  upon  you. 
But  in  everything,  from  your  conception  and 
birth  you  are  personally  bound  to  God.  For 
consider  and  do  not  forget  in  Psalm  22  it  says: 
''Thou  didst  make  me  trust  when  I  was  upon  my 
mother's  breasts."  To  make  one  trust,  in  such 
a  way,  that  the  soul  itself  trusts,  is  to  evoke  an 
inner  working  of  the  soul  itself.     David  reckons 

492 


the   life   of  his   soul   from   the   moment   when   as 
infant  he  cradled  at  his  mother's  breast. 

91 

"AND    WORSHIP    HIM    THAT    LIVETH 
FOR  EVER  AND  EVER." 

Prayer  and  worship  are  not  the  same.  This  is 
felt  at  once  when  we  consider  the  distinction 
between  religion  in  heaven  and  religion  on  earth. 
Here  on  earth  we  are  in  all  sorts  of  need  and 
misery.  We  endure  a  thousand  anxieties.  We 
struggle  with  disappointment  and  adversity.  And 
every  day  our  life  is  a  concatenation  of  needs 
that  call  *for  fulfilment.  This  condition  of 
itself  impels  us  to  make  prayer  and  supplication, 
to  invoke  help  and  deliverance,  to  implore  for 
redemption  and  the  grant  of  our  desires.  In 
religion  here  on  earth  prayer,  supplication,  the 
invocation    of   higher   help    is   entirely   in    place. 

This  is  altogether  different  in  heaven.  Un- 
doubtedly in  heaven  also  there  is  prayer,  even 
much  prayer.  Christ  himself  lives  to  pray  for 
us.  But  prayer  in  heaven,  on  the  part  of  Christ 
and  of  the  angels  and  of  the  blessed,  bears  an 
entirely  different  character  from  our  praj^er  on 
earth.  "Our  Father  who  art  in  heaven,  hallowed 
be  Thy  name.  Thy  Kingdom  come.  Thy  will 
be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven,"  can  also  be 
prayed  above.  The  Kingdom  of  glory  tarries. 
The  conflict  between  the  power  that  opposes  God 
and  Christ  continues.  The  end  is  not  yet. 
And  therefore  it  is  natural  that  everything  in 
heaven  invokes  this  end,  and  prays  for  the 
coming  of  the  Kingdom  of  glory. 


It  is  also  plain  that  in  heaven  prayer  is  made 
in  behalf  of  God's  people  in  the  earth.  The 
Scripture  teaches  this  clearly  with  respect  to 
Christ.  That  the  angels  remember  us  in  their 
supplication  is  quite  certain.  And  that  the  blessed 
themselves  unite  with  Christ  and  the  angels  in 
prayer  for  the  triumph  of  the  Kingdom  of  God 
in  the  earth,  can  scarcely  be  taken  in  question. 
But  though  we  follow  along  this  line  as  far  as 
scripture  allows,  it  is  self-evident,  that  neither 
the  angels  nor  the  blessed  can  join  us  in  the 
prayer:  "Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread,  for- 
gi\  J  us  our  debts,  and  lead  us  not  into  tempta- 
tion, but  deliver  us  from  the  Evil."  The  blessed 
may  pray  that  they  might  be  clothed  upon,  but 
their  state  is  not  one  of  need,  misery,  lack  and 
want.  They  are  blessed  and  drink  with  full 
draughts  from  the  fountain  of  bliss.  And  where 
we  are  permitted  to  look  at  life  in  the  heavens, 
as  in  Revelation,  we  are  told  almost  nothing  else 
of  angels,  seraphs  and  cherubim,  and  of  the 
blessed,  save  that  they  worship.  Holy,  holy, 
holy  is  the  Lord  of  Hosts.  The  whole  earth  is 
full   of  his  glory. 

If  then  there  is  this  difference  between  religion 
above  and  religion  on  earth,  that  with  us  prayer 
stands  in  the  foreground,  and  worship  in  the 
heavens,  it  is  of  utmost  importance,  that  we 
carefully  consider  the  character  of  this  worship. 
Prayer  is  the  search  after  God's  nearness  in  our 
behalf,  that  he  might  be  gracious  unto  us.  Wor- 
ship is  the  search  after  God's  nearness,  in  order 
from  our  side  to  bring  tribute  unto  God  of  praise 
and  honor,  thanksgiving  and  glory.  In  principle 
one  is  the  opposite  of  the  other.     He  who  praj's 

494 


desires  something  from  God.  He  who  worships 
desires  that  his  soul  and  his  whole  being  may 
devote  itself  to  God.  He  who  prays  intends 
that  something  shall  come  to  us  from  God.  He 
who  worships  intends  that  something  from  us 
shall  come  to  God. 

That  grace  operates  in  worship,  is  self-evident, 
but  it  is  another  kind  of  grace.  It  is  grace,  that 
the  infinite,  almighty  and  self-sufficient  God  will 
accept  the  magnifying  of  his  name  at  the  hand 
of  the  creature.  He  is  so  infinitely  exalted  that 
the  creature  can  not  bring  him  anything.  And 
though  every  voice  of  angel  and  every  tongue 
of  man  were  to  be  silent  forevermore,  the  Eternal 
Being  would  be  in  need  of  nothing,  and  would 
remain  sufficient  unto  himself.  And  herein  is 
grace  that  the  most  High  God,  who  is  in  need  of 
nothing,  will  take  pleasure  in  the  songs  of  praise 
of  angels  and  of  men,  and  that  he  grants  unto  them 
the  sacred  joy  of  showing  forth  his  praises.  All 
worship,  all  thanksgiving,  every  hymn  of  praise 
and  every  tribute  of  honor  rests  upon  the  founda- 
tion of  this  to  us  impenetrable  grace. 

This  worship  and  tribute  of  praise  can  at  the 
same  time  serve  to  make  great  the  name  of 
God  before  our  fellow-creatures,  but  in  worship  at 
least  this  is  not  the  intended  aim.  He  who  sings 
the  praises  of  God,  can  do  this  for  the  sake  of 
confessing  his  Holy  Name  before  unbelieving 
multitudes,  and  of  winning  them  for  God,  but 
worship  is  an  holy  utterance  of  soul,  which  takes 
place  between  our  soul  and  God,  and  can  at  most 
adapt  itself  to  the  worship  of  fellow-believers. 
In  its  highest  utterance,  worship  can  not  be 
mechanical.     Worship  only  comes  to  pass  when 

495 


the  soul  loses  itself  in  God,  when,  in  adoration  it 
marvels  at  his  virtues  and  his  works,  and  of  it- 
self breaks  forth  into  praises  even  as  the  .Eolian 
harp  emits  its  dulcet  strains,  when  the  wind  plays 
on  its  strings. 

Examine  now  the  life  of  your  own  soul  and 
see,  not  whether  there  is  more  prayer  in  it  than 
worship,  but  whether,  together  with  prayer,  wor- 
ship is  accorded  sufficient  room  of  its  own.  And 
then,  alas,  it  must  be  the  honest  confession  of 
many,  that  in  the  life  of  prayer,  worship  con- 
stitutes but  all  too  meagre  an  element.  We  do 
not  say  that  most  people  do  not  worship  also, 
but  we  are  bold  to  express  the  surmise  that  the 
blessed  joy  of  worship  is  but  all  too  little  known 
and  sought. 

And  this  should  not  be  so.  He  who  seeks 
the  secret  walk,  he  who  desires  to  be  near  unto 
God,  should  not  in  prayer  be  engaged  almost 
exclusively  with  himself  or  with  his  own  interests, 
but  when  kneeling  before  God,  he  should  not 
even  lastly  be  busy  with  God.  The  knowledge  of 
God  lies  in  worship,  far  more  than  in  prayer.  He 
who  prays  for  something,  thinks  first  of  all  of 
his  own  need  and  want,  and  he  only  loses  him- 
self in  his  God  to  this  extent,  that  with  God 
there  is  power  and  might  that  can  come  to  his 
help  in  his  need..  He,  on  the  other  hand,  who 
worships,  loses  himself  in  God,  forgets  himself, 
in  order  to  think  of  God  alone,  to  let  himself 
be  illumined  by  the  lustre  of  God's  virtues,  and  to 
cause  the  reflex  of  God's  greatness  to  be  reflected 
from  his  own  soul,  as  it  mirrors  itself  in  his  ador- 
ing and  spell-bound  spirit. 

Onl^-   when  the   Kingdom   of  Glory   shall  have 

496 


been  ushered  in,  shall  we,  on  the  new  earth  and 
under  the  new  heaven,  together  with  all  God's 
angels,  do  nothing  else.  At  present,  need  and 
want  continuously  bring  prayer  to  the  lips.  And 
yet,  woe  be  to  him,  woe  be  to  her,  who  already 
here,  has  not  some  knowledge  of  that  real  life, 
which  finds  its  blessedness  in  worship. 

Let  thanksgiving  here  be  the  training  school. 
The  Reformed  Confession  takes  the  whole  life 
of  a  child  of  God  as  one  of  gratitude,  and  giving 
thanks  is  the  beginning  and  continuance  of  all 
worship.  0,  who  would  not  daily  pray  for  the 
forgiveness  of  sins ;  but  it  is  dreadful  when  earnest 
thanksgiving  for  pardon  obtained  on  Golgotha 
remains  lacking  or  at  least  does  not  fill  the  soul. 
So  it  is  with  our  whole  life.  There  is  constant 
need  and  want,  and  the  pressure  of  soul  from 
the  depths  to  call  upon  God,  that  he  might  be 
gracious  unto  us.  But  is  there  ever  a  moment  in 
prayer,  when  there  is  no  occasion  as  well,  to  give 
thanks  for  grace  obtained,  and  to  honor  him  who 
gave  it? 

Giving  thanks  is  not  yet  perfect  worship.  It  is 
worship  only  with  respect  to  what  God  has  done 
for  us.  But  he  who  has  learned  to  give  thanks, 
honest,  affectionate  thanks,  comes  of  himself  to 
this  yet  far  more  perfect  worship,  which  has  no 
other  desire  than  to  glorify  the  majesty  of  God. 
With  the  heathen  at  times  there  was  more  worship 
for  idols  than  is  found  with  us  for  the  Holy  One. 
Is  the  admonition  superfluous  that  we  shall 
accustom  our  children  from  the  beginning  not  only 
to  pra3\  but  also  to  giving  thanks  and  to  worship? 
There  is  nothing  so  effective  in  bringing  the  soul 
near   unto   God   as  worship„ 

497 


92 

"THE  BODY  IS  NOT  ONE  MEMBER, 

BUT  MANY." 

Christ  is  your  King.  He  has  been  anointed 
King  not  merely  over  Zion,  the  mountain  of  his 
hohness;  not  merely  King,  after  the  earthly  Zion 
had  been  profaned,  over  God's  kingdom  in  the 
earth.  No,  Christ  is  also  King  over  the  persons 
who  are  subject  unto  him.  Our  personal  relation 
to  Christ  can  not  be  expressed  in  a  single  word. 
It  is  many-sided.  When  we  think  of  the  guilt  of 
sin,  which  threatens  doom,  Christ  is  our  Recon- 
ciler. When  we  seek  safety  with  Christ  against 
tha  power  of  sin  and  of  temptation,  he  is  not  our 
Reconciler,  but  our  Redeemer.  Or  when  we  look 
to  Christ  for  direction  and  guidance  in  the  laby- 
rinth of  life,  the  selfsame  Savior  is  not  our 
Reconciler,  not  our  Redeemer,  but  our  Shepherd, 
who  has  gone  before  us  in  the  way,  and  has  left 
us  an  example. 

But  even  this  does  not  exhaust  our  many- 
sided  relation  to  our  Savior.  For  that  self-same 
Christ  is  also  our  glorified  Head  with  the  Father, 
the  Lord  before  whom  our  knee  must  bend,  and 
whom  our  tongue  must  confess;  and  therefore 
the  King  who  has  incorporated  us  with  his  people; 
whose  subjects  we  have  become;  and  in  whose 
palace  we  shall  once  be  expected.  The  honorary 
title  of  King  is  even  so  little  accidental,  that  the 
great  plea  on  Golgotha  is  at  length  fought  out 
under  it,  and  at  the  bar  of  Pilate  the  conflict 
between  the  Emperor  of  Rome  and  the  Anointed 
One  of  God  concentrated  itself  in  the  struggle  for 
the  honor  of  Kingship.     As  announced  to  John 

498 


the  Divine,  in  Revelation,  the  Lamb  is  not  alone 
our  Reconciler  and  Surety,  not  alone  our  Redeemer 
and  Savior,  and  not  alone  the  Shepherd  and 
Bishop  of  our  soul.  No,  the  Lamb  of  God — and 
in  this  antithesis  you  feel  what  strikes  and 
irritates — the  Lamb  of  God  is  also  Lord  of  lords 
and  King  of  kings  (Rev.  17:14).  The  Lamb  with 
the  crown  is  the  exalted,  the  holy  combination  of 
self-effacement  and  dominion. 

Your  King!  But  in  what  sense?  Is  earthly 
kingship  here  the  real,  the  actual,  and  is  the  kingly 
image  of  the  earthly  prince  applied  to  the  Savior, 
merely  by  way  of  comparison,  by  which  to  express 
his  power  and  honor?  Christ  your  King!  Does 
this  title  of  honor  merely  serve  to  have  you  think 
of  Christ,  as  in  a  distant  hamlet  the  man  behind 
the  plow  thinks  of  his  sovereign  in  the  royal  resi- 
dence? This  is  to  him  a  secret  and  mysterious 
power,  expressed  in  the  image  on  a  coin,  but  for 
the  rest  it  is  a  power  which  remains  foreign  to 
him,  a  power  far  off,  of  whose  splendor  and  lustre, 
of  whose  glory  and  pomp,  he  can  form  no  faint 
idea,  but  which  he  honors  from  afar.  A  sovereign 
in  the  glorious  palace,  but  who  is  unapproachable 
by  him,  to  whom  he  pays  tribute  because  he  is 
his  subject,  and  for  whom,  if  he  is  pious,  he  inter- 
cedes in  his  daily  prayer. 

And  truly,  there  is  likeness  here.  Christ  also  is 
enthroned  in  a  palace  of  glory,  even  in  such  a 
palace,  that  all  royal  pomp  on  earth  pales  before 
the  splendor  of  its  greatness.  The  subject  of  Jesus 
also  sacrifices  for  his  king  his  child  in  Divine 
service,  his  money  in  the  labor  of  love,  his  strength 
in  what  must  be  done  in  behalf  of  his  kingdom. 
This  King  also  has  his  throne  afar  off,  and  here 

499 


on  earth  the  King  of  God's  kingdom  can  not  be 
seen.  But  with  this  the  likeness  ends.  That 
Christ  is  your  king  is  as  a  figure  of  speech,  so 
httle  derived  from  earthly  princes  that  on  the 
contrary  the  kings  in  the  earth  are  only  image- 
bearers  of  his  glory,  and  that  true,  real,  actual 
kingship  is  never  realized  in  a  prince  on  earth, 
but  is  known  in  Christ  alone. 

Head,  Lord  and  King  are  but  three  rays  of  the 
selfsame  glory.  Head  points  to  the  inner  relation- 
ship and  sodality  of  your  life,  existence  and  inner 
being,  with  the  life,  existence  and  being  of  your 
Savior,  Lord  expresses  that  Christ  owns  you, 
that  you  are  his  property,  that  you  belong  to  him, 
that  he  has  redeemed  you  from  the  power  of 
Satan,  and  that  he  has  bought  you  with  his  blood. 
And  only  in  this  two-fold  relation,  because  he  is 
your  Head  and  Lord,  he  is  also  your  King,  who 
has  taken  you  up  into  his  Kingdom,  incorporated 
you  with  his  people,  made  you  sharer  in  his  lot, 
and  rules  you  by  his  royal  law  of  life.  You  are 
his  subject,  but  only  because  thereby  you  are  a 
member  of  the  body  of  which  he  is  the  head. 

This  seems  at  first  hearing  an  enigmatical  union, 
but  it  is  one  which  beautifully  explains  itself 
when  that  body,  and  in  it  the  significance  of  the 
head,  and  what  under  the  head  every  member  is, 
is  clearly  understood.  Imagine  man,  to  take  a 
perfect  instance,  as  in  paradise  he  came  forth 
from  the  hand  of  God.  The  clean,  pure,  beauti- 
ful body,  and  in  that  body  the  several  members, 
in  which  it  revealed  itself,  and  its  noble  head,  with 
the  fullness  of  facial  expression,  with  the  fine, 
expressive  features,  with  the  animation  that 
uttered  itself  in  them.     Thus  only  can  we  have 

500 


the  image  before  us  of  the  body  of  Christ,  of  the 
members  in  that  body,  and  over  all  these  mem- 
bers, the  glorious  Head. 

The  image  here,  however,  is  not  merely  the 
human  body.  Body  in  this  connection  rather  indi- 
cates in  a  broader  sense  what  we  more  commonly 
call  an  organism,  even  in  the  sense  in  which  an 
animal  also  is  an  organism,  and  the  plant  an 
organism,  and  as  we  apply  the  figure  of  a  body 
or  of  an  organism  to  all  sorts  of  association  of 
man  with  man.  Thus  we  speak  of  a  corporation 
(which  is  nothing  else  than  a  body)  signifying 
thereby  all  sorts  of  unions,  societies  and  confed- 
erations that  are  formed.  So  we  say  that  the 
family  has  an  organic  existence.  So  we  speak  of 
the  body  of  the  state,  and  of  the  body  of  the 
people.  And  for  this  reason,  and  in  this  connec- 
tion, we  call  him  who  directs  such  a  corporation, 
the  head  of  such  a  corporation,  or  the  head  of 
the  body  of  the  state.  It  is  even  the  rule  to  call 
those  who  belong  to  such  a  society  or  body,  mem- 
bers of  the  society,  or  members  of  the  church.  To 
become  a  member  of  a  nation,  is  to  become  in- 
corporated in  that  nation. 

And  this  is  the  figure  of  speech  which  the  holy 
apostle  applies  to  Christ  and  his  people.  The 
organism  of  the  plant  also  renders  service  here. 
Did  not  Jesus  say:  "I  am  the  true  vine,  and  ye 
are  the  branches?"  And  does  not  St.  Paul  speak 
of  having  become  one  plant  with  Jesus?  It  is 
always  the  one  effort,  to  make  it  tangible  and 
clear,  that  Jesus'  Kingship  is  no  external  dominion 
over  us  from  without,  but  that  before  we  become 
subjects  of  Jesus,  we  are  linked  into  his  life,  and 
that  with  the  thread  of  life  itself,  if  we  may  so 

501 


express  it,  we  are  bound  to  him;  so  that  it  is  one 
blood  of  hfe  that  circulates  in  him  and  in  us;  and 
that  it  is  one  spirit  of  life  that  animates  us  and 
him  unto  life.  Yea,  that  as  little  as  the  head  can 
be  moved  from  one  place  into  another,  but  the 
foot,  the  hand,  the  eye  and  the  ear  go  with  it — 
so  also  every  vital  movement  of  our  King  of  itself 
stirs  also  in  us,  and  puts  us  into  motion  with  him. 
Thus  Christ  is  our  King,  because  of  itself  and  of 
necessity  the  members  follow  the  body,  and  the 
body  goes  wherever  the  head  directs  it. 

93 

"LORD,  TEACH  US  TO  PRAY." 

If  the  temper  of  the  soul  were  harmonious,  you 
would  never  feel  nearer  unto  God  than  in  prayer, 
and  in  prayer  you  would  never  be  far  away  from 
God.  To  pray  and  not  be  near  unto  God,  rightly 
interpreted,  is  impossible.  And  yet  what  prayer 
is  not  made  each  day  in  every  city  and  village, 
yes,  we  may  say  in  every  house,  again  and  again 
in  which  the  soul  never  for  a  moment  comes  under 
the  overwhelming  impression  of  standing  before 
the  face  of  God.  Sin  weakens  our  inner  life  in 
all  sorts  of  ways.  Hence  the  mainspring  of  the 
life  of  the  soul  can  not  properly  operate  as  we 
should  ardently  wish  it  might.  Then  we  feel  that 
we  can  not  pray.  Yet  we  do  not  want  to  neglect 
prayer.  So  we  fold  our  hands  and  stammer  our 
petitions.  But  when  the  Amen  has  been  said,  we 
feel  discouraged  by  the  lack  of  elevation  and  in- 
spiration that  has  marred  our  devotions. 

Apart  from  leading  others  in  prayer,  every  one 
must  and  can  pray,  and  yet  to  pray  well  is  an 

502 


exceedingly  difficult  art,  or  rather  it  is  a  sacred 
action,  which  demands  the  utmost  clearness, 
urgency  and  readiness  of  soul.  But  to  pray  well 
must  never  become  art,  or  else  it  ceases  to  be 
prayer.  The  disciples  realized  this,  and  when 
they  had  witnessed  once  again  the  sacred  act,  that 
Jesus,  having  gone  a  little  distance  from  them, 
had  separated  himself  in  prayer  to  the  Father, 
they  were  so  impressed  with  the  sense  of  their 
own  inability  to  pray  that,  on  the  return  of  Jesus, 
one  of  them  said  unto  him:  "Lord,  teach  us  to 
pray,  as  John  also  taught  his  disciples"  (Luke 
11:1). 

An  over-spiritual  child  of  God,  in  our  days, 
would  perhaps  have  turned  away  such  a  request 
with  a  rebuke.  For  everyone  must  pray  of  him- 
self, and  what  value  can  a  memorized  prayer  have 
before  God?  But  Jesus  was  not  so  over-spiritual. 
He  never  prayed  otherwise  than  of  himself.  But 
he  understood  how  difficult  true  prayer  must  be 
for  us  who  are  sinners,  and  though  his  disciples 
were  to  be  the  teachers  and  leaders  of  the  church 
in  all  ages,  he  appreciated  the  request  that  he 
should  teach  them  how  to  pray,  and  so  he  gave 
them  to  pray  the  Our  Father  in  his  own  heavenly 
language. 

He  did  not  say:  "Pray  after  this  manner."  He 
did  not  give  them  the  Our  Father  as  an  example, 
how  to  pray.  No,  the  Lord  expressly  said:  "When 
ye  pray,  say."  John,  too,  had  evidently  given  his 
disciples  such  a  formulary  prayer.  And  so  Jesus 
also  gave  his  disciples  a  prayer  in  a  fixed  form,  a 
prayer  evidently  intended  and  appointed  to  be 
prayed  by  them  all  together.    For  the  form  is  in 

503 


the  plural:  Our  Father,  our  daily  bread,  our 
trespasses. 

In  all  ages,  in  all  her  forms,  the  Church  of 
Christ  has  been  true  to  the  Our  Father.  And  in 
our  liturgy  our  fathers  also  have  not  only  adopted 
fixed  prayers  for  public  worship,  but  have  always 
ordered  the  use  of  "Our  Father"  in  the  congrega- 
tion of  believers.  But  since  the  eighteenth  century 
this  has  been  discarded.  Particularly  from  Scot- 
land the  influence  has  come  in,  to  put  everything 
aside  that  had  the  appearance  of  a  fixed  form, 
and  to  prescribe  in  church  none  other  than  the 
free  prayer  of  the  leader.  This  aim  was  high. 
But  was  it  not  too  high,  and  has  not  over- 
spirituality  worked  all  too  grievously  an  injury  to 
the  spiritual? 

Undoubtedly,  the  highest  end  is  attained  when, 
independent  of  every  aid,  from  the  free  impulse 
of  the  Spirit,  the  soul  lifts  itself  up  to  God,  and 
on  the  wings  of  the  Spirit,  spreads  itself  before 
God  in  sacred,  devotional  language.  Such  glor- 
ious moments  are  not  infrequent  in  the  prayer- 
life.  And  it  is  plain  that  in  such  moments  even 
the  Our  Father  is  not  sufficiently  concrete  to 
direct  the  soul  in  its  utterance  before  God.  But 
in  all  seriousness,  how  many  among  the  great  and 
small  in  the  congregation  have  risen  to  these 
sacred  heights.  And,  if  there  are  such,  how  many 
are  the  moments  of  a  long  day,  when  they  are  in 
such  sacred  and  exalted  moods?  We  must  needs 
reckon  with  reality.  And  think  not  only  of  your- 
self, but  have  a  tender  consideration  for  the  poor 
sheep  in  the  church  and  in  your  own  home,  whose 
spiritual  standing  is  still  low,  and  who  yet  needs 
must  pray,  and  for  whom  it  is  no  less  glorious 

504 


than  for  you,  when  in  prayer  they  come  a  Httle 
nearer  unto  God,  and  may  perceive  something  of 
his  holy  presence.  How  much  higher  did  not  the 
apostles  of  Jesus  stand  than  we,  and  yet  for  them 
Jesus  deemed  a  memorized  prayer  so  little  aim- 
less or  superfluous,  that  he  himself  gave  them  one. 

It  is  true,  every  written  prayer  leads  to  abuse. 
But  would  you  think  that  Jesus  has  neither  fore- 
seen nor  known,  to  what  abuse  even  the  Our 
Father  would  lead?  And  yet  he  gave  it  to  his 
disciples.  Nothing  can  be  so  holy,  but  our  in- 
firmity and  sin  will  turn  it  to  abuse.  Baptism  is 
abused.  The  Lord's  supper  is  abused.  The 
Scripture  is  abused.  Must  everything  then  be 
condemned  because  of  this?  Prayer  also  places 
a  painful  choice  before  us.  Say  that  only  the 
Spirit's  prayer  from  one's  own  soul  is  acceptable 
before  God,  and  forsooth,  there  will  be  no  more 
abuse.  But,  then,  there  will  also  be  thousands  of 
families  where  no  more  prayer  will  be  said,  and 
all  remembrance  of  it  will  gradually  be  lost.  But 
restore  the  use  in  its  fixed  form,  and  of  necessity 
the  muttering  with  lips  will  ensue,  in  which  the 
soul  has  no  part.  Not  in  every  case,  praise  God, 
but  with  many,  and  thus  many  a  prayer  is  pro- 
faned. 

Standing  before  this  choice,  many  incline  to 
say:  "In  that  case  let  the  rest  go  without  prayer, 
provided  there  are  a  few  who  pray  aright.  In 
any  case  cut  off  the  work  of  the  lips,  in  which 
there  is  no  heart."  And  yet  we  may  not  say  this. 
What  Jesus  spake  to  his  disciples  excludes  this. 
Let  us  be  more  humble.  Let  us  acknowledge,  that 
even  the  congregation  of  the  Lord  occupies  too 
low  a  viewpoint  for  what  is  so  deeply  spiritual, 

505 


and  that,  if  prayer  is  to  be  maintained,  if  it  shall 
continue  to  be  a  power  in  the  whole  church,  in 
every  home,  for  every  member  of  that  home,  for 
great  and  small  alike,  both  must  be  practiced;  as 
well  the  prayer  from  one's  own  soul,  as  the  written 
prayer  which  all  can  pray,  because  all  have  been 
instructed  in  its  use. 

Our  praise  in  hymn  and  psalm  would  also  be  of 
an  higher  order  if  every  one  of  us  were  born  poets 
and  if  we  never  sang  hymns  from  a  book,  but 
always  from  our  own  inspiration  and  impulse. 
But  this  we  do  not  do.  We  can  not.  We  are 
no  poets.  And  no  public  praise  would  be  possible 
if  the  same  hymn  were  not  sung  together.  This 
also  leads  to  abuse.  Hynm  upon  hymn  is  sung 
by  more  than  one  person  in  the  congregation  with 
the  lips,  in  which  the  soul  has  no  part.  But  who 
will  for  this  reason  banish  hymns  and  psalms  from 
worship  in  God's  house?  This  would  be  a  reach- 
ing out  after  overspirituality  which  would  mean 
death  to  public  worship. 

But  there  is  still  a  more  significant  reason.  Do 
we  not  know  from  experience  that  when  the  soul 
seeks  to  draw  near  unto  God,  nothing  at  times  is 
more  helpful  than  to  repeat  to  oneself  some  in- 
spired verse  from  the  Psalms,  which  we  have 
learned  when  a  child,  and  which  by  its  devotional 
language  of  itself  takes  us  out  of  our  ordinary 
world  of  thought  and  lifts  up  the  soul  to  God? 
When  we  wanted  to  pray,  and  prayer  would  not 
come,  has  not  the  Our  Father  frequently  been  the 
grateful  means  of  bringing  us  into  the  prayerful 
mood?  The  Scripture  also  is  a  formulary,  and 
always  remains  the  same.  And  is  not  reading  of 
Scripture  before  prayer  continually  the  means  that 

506 


not  only  enables  us  to  pray,  but  to  pray  in  such 
sacred  terms  as  to  carry  the  soul  with  them? 

A  twofold  cause  here  operates.  First,  lan- 
guage. Prayer  and  praise  have  a  language  of 
their  own.  This  language  does  not  rise  of  itself 
from  every  soul.  There  have  been  those  who 
were  specially  gifted  with  this.  Is  it  not  natural 
that  they,  who  sing  after  David,  and  who  pray 
in  the  words  of  Paul,  feel  that  this  helps  and 
elevates  them,  and  brings  them  further  than  of 
themselves  they  ever  could  have  come?  But 
there  is  still  something  more.  Words  of  prayer, 
and  elevations  of  praise,  which  from  youth  have 
been  with  us  in  life,  impart  to  our  utterance  of 
soul  a  steadiness  which  strengthens,  and  makes 
us  inwardly  devout.  And  when  in  addition  to  this 
we  realize  that  these  wonderful  words  of  prayer 
and  elevations  of  praise  are  not  only  familiar  to 
us,  but  that  they  are  now,  and  have  been  in  all 
ages,  the  language  of  God's  children,  it  is  as 
though  some  portion  of  the  precious  ointment  of 
Aaron  has  been  poured  out  upon  it  all,  the  sweet 
fragrance  of  which  refreshes  the  heart. 

The  aim  of  the  seeking  always  is  to  experience 
under  it  all  the  blessed  nearness  of  God.  Well, 
then,  the  Our  Father  also,  when  it  is  quietly,  rest- 
fully  and  solemnly  said,  opens  the  gate  of  heaven 
to  the  soul.  Psalm  language  of  itself  carries  the 
soul  upward.  Everything  that  lends  our  wander- 
ing, and  frequently  impotent  soul  the  support  of 
the  sacred  Word,  lifts  us  up  into  a  higher  mood. 
Moreover,  everything  in  prayer  and  praise  that 
makes  us  experience  the  communion  of  all  God's 
saints  and  fellowship  with  our  own  more  godly 
past,  places  a  protecting  power  by  the  side  of  the 

507 


power  of  the  world  that  aims  at  keeping  us  far 
distant  from  God. 

The  benediction  also  at  the  close  of  public 
worship  might  easily  be  composed  by  each 
preacher  for  himself.  That  this  is  not  the  case, 
that  in  the  benediction  at  least  a  fixed  form  has 
been  maintained,  is  a  gain  to  be  thankfully 
acknowledged.  Now  the  preacher  can  put  noth- 
ing into  it  of  himself.  He  is  forgotten  thereby, 
but  just  because  he  steps  into  the  background, 
the  benediction  affects  us  as  a  gentle  dew  of  grace 
which  comes  to  us  from  God. 

94 

''AS  IN  HEAVEN." 

For  the  soul  ''to  be  near  unto  God"  implies,  that 
we  lift  up  ourselves  with  mind  and  heart  from 
our  everyday  surroundings  into  the  sphere  of  the 
Divine  Majesty.  This  is  what,  in  language  of 
Scripture,  the  Sursum  Corda  has  become,  namely: 
the  impulse  to  lift  up  soul  and  mind  unto  God 
and  to  appear  in  the  audience-chamber  of  his 
holiness.  In  his  infinite  compassion  God  truly 
comes  down  to  us,  to  dwell  with  us,  and  with  his 
rod  and  staff  to  comfort  us.  This  by  itself  brings 
God  near  to  us,  but  by  no  means  always  brings 
our  soul  near  unto  God.  The  seeking  love  of 
God  can  for  long  times  be  near  unto  our  heart, 
and  can  even  be  within  it,  while  the  heart  is  un- 
conscious of  it.  An  infant  can  be  carried  by  God's 
nearness,  and  have  no  sense  whatever  of  the 
Divine  Majesty.  In  conditions  of  sickness,  which 
darken  our  consciousness  of  self,  God's  nearness 
to  his  child  is  not  removed.    Even  when  in  dying 

508 


our  consciousness  fails  us,  the  nearness  of  God 
continues  to  support  the  soul,  which  he  has  called 
unto  himself. 

But  however  closely  these  two  are  allied,  they 
must  always  be  carefully  distinguished.  Whether 
God  is  near  unto  us,  and  whether  we  are  near 
unto  God,  is  not  the  same.  And  in  behalf  of  the 
latter,  not  of  the  former,  it  is  exceedingly  impor- 
tant that  our  mind  be  not  too  closely  chained  to 
the  world  of  visible  things,  but  that  we  should 
understand  the  sacred  art  of  turning  our  mental 
perception  from  this  world  into  that  which  is 
around  God's  throne. 

The  soul  first  learns  this  in  prayer.  And  it  is 
noteworthy  that  in  the  short  form  of  the  Our 
Father,  Jesus  repeatedly  directs  our  thoughts  to 
the  invisible  world.  At  once  in  the  address :  "Our 
Father,  who  art  in  heaven."  According  to  the 
Heidelberg  catechism,  this  means  that  we  should 
not  think  of  God  in  an  earthly  way.  And  this 
IS  correct,  provided  it  is  properly  taken  not  as 
a  sound,  as  a  word  or  as  a  term  whereby  to  ex- 
press something  supermundane,  but  as  an  effort 
of  the  soul,  by  which,  at  the  very  beginning  of  the 
prayer,  to  free  itself  from  the  embrace  of  earthly 
interests  and  to  enter  into  the  high  and  holy 
spheres  that  surround  the  throne  of  God.  The 
prayer:  "Thy  kingdom  come,"  carries  the  same 
effect,  since  that  kingdom  can  not  be  anything 
else  than  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  Hence  the 
petition  implies,  that  the  powers  of  the  kingdom 
of  heaven  ought  to  permeate  our  life  ever  more 
strongly. 

Fellowship  with  life  around  God's  throne,  how- 
ever, is  most  clearly  expressed  in  the  third  peti- 

509 


tion:  Thy  will  be  done  on  earth  among  us  as  in 
heaven  among  thy  angels.  Here  the  reference  to 
heaven  is  immediate.  Here  both  the  similarity 
and  the  difference  of  life  on  earth  and  life  in 
heaven  is  simultaneously  shown.  Here  Jesus 
urges  us.  that  in  prayer,  and  in  seeking  the  near- 
ness of  God,  we  should  acquaint  ourselves  with 
the  world  of  angels  and  of  the  redeemed,  in  order 
by  our  relationship  with  their  world,  to  strengthen 
our  approach  to  God.  Jesus  urges  us  even  so 
strongly  in  prayer  to  bring  our  souls  into  contact 
with  the  invisible  world,  that  in  the  last  petition 
he  makes  us  sensible  of  the  inworking  that  goes 
out  upon  us  from  the  head  of  the  fallen  angels. 
"Deliver  us  from  the  evil,"  is  the  petition  which 
reminds  us  that  evil,  that  sin  which  springs  up  in 
our  heart,  is  fed  and  inspired  by  a  higher  power 
from  the  invisible  world,  and  that  God  alone  can 
deliver  us  from  this  deadly  inworking.  Is  it  then 
too  much  to  say,  that  in  this  brief  prayer  of  six 
petitions,  Jesus  leads  us  out  from  the  earthly 
sphere  of  visible  things,  and  unveils  to  the  sense 
of  our  soul  clearly  and  strongly  the  reality  of  the 
invisible  world?  And  all  for  the  sake  that  we 
might  the  more  fully  and  the  more  intimately 
enjo}^  "to  be  near  unto  God." 

In  Scripture,  this  communion  with  spirits  from 
the  invisible  world,  is  shown  in  more  than  one 
instance  to  be  inseparable  from  nearness  unto 
God.  Only  think  of  the  vision  call  of  Isaiah  and 
of  the  Revelations  on  Patmos.  Isaiah  not  only 
saw  the  Lord  upon  the  throne,  but  also  the 
Seraphim  around  it,  and  he  heard  the  "Holy, 
holy,  holy  is  the  Lord  of  hosts,"  which  with  other 
music   rang   through   the   arches   of   heaven.     On 

510 


Patmos  it  was  the  same.  There,  too,  the  seer's 
eye  beheld  the  holy  One,  and  also  the  Chenibim 
who  reveal  God's  majesty,  and  what  is  more, 
from  ''the  elders,"  i.  e.  from  the  circles  of  the 
blest,  he  heard  the  hymn  of  praise :  "Thou,  Lord, 
art  worthy  to  receive  glory  and  honor  and  power  I" 

And  so  throughout  the  entire  Scripture  there 
runs  a  golden  line  of  heavenly  light,  which  brings 
the  prayers  and  the  hymns  of  praise  of  God'fl 
people  into  fellowship  with  the  songs  of  praise  of 
angels  and  the  redeemed.  It  is  not  only  that  the 
angels  and  the  blest  in  unapproachable  light,  and 
we  on  earth  in  our  twilight,  sing  praises  to  the 
Trinity,  but  that  there  is  a  connection  between 
the  voices  of  angels  and  the  tongues  of  men. 
Indeed,  sometimes  it  seems  that  we  on  earth  but 
echo  what  is  sung  around  God's  throne  in  heaven, 
and  that  our  heart  only  finds  rest  when  there  is 
holy  accord  and  blessed  harmony  between  created 
spirits  above  and  the  creature  that  on  earth 
thirsts  after  the  nearness  of  God. 

But  this  presents  the  question  whether  this 
indispensable  fellowship  with  God's  angels  and 
the  redeemed  around  the  heavenly  throne  has  not 
been  too  much  lost  from  sight  in  our  circles. 
That  we  should  be  on  our  guard  against  abuse  in 
this  matter,  is  self-evident.  Idolatry  has  not 
improbably  arisen  from  this  search  after  inter- 
course with  the  world  of  spirits.  Even  within 
the  church  of  Christ  the  search  after  this  fellow- 
ship has  all  too  frequently  drawn  souls  away  from 
the  nearness  of  God,  rather  than  introduced  them 
into  his  holy  presence.  Dealings  of  the  soul,  if 
we  may  so  express  ourselves,  with  angels  and  the 
blest,  have  tempted  anxious  souls  all  too  often 

511 


to  introduce  intermediary  persons  between  our 
soul  and  God,  to  whom  to  look  for  help  rather 
than  to  God.  It  is  plain,  therefore,  that  for  the 
sake  of  correcting  this  abuse,  safety  was  sought 
in  sobriety,  and  that  with  holy  enthusiasm  it  was 
undertaken  not  to  allow  oneself  to  be  drawn  away 
in  his  prayer  by  anything,  not  even  by  angels, 
from  God  himself  and  from  immediate  com- 
munion with  God.  But  it  can  not  be  denied  that 
by  exaggeration  this  carefulness  has  led  to  the 
other  extreme.  For  is  it  not  a  fact,  that  in  the 
prayers  of  the  church,  in  prayer  at  home,  and  in 
personal  supplication,  the  spirit-world  is  almost 
entirely  ignored,  and  that  thereby  all  such  prayer 
has  become  antagonistic  to  the  note  which  Jesus 
himself  has  struck  in  the  Our  Father? 

In  the  Our  Father,  Jesus  brings  our  soul  again 
and  again  in  touch  with  this  higher  world  of 
spirits,  while  from  our  pra3^er  this  communion 
has  almost  entirely  died  away.  For  the  sake  of 
avoiding  the  abuse  of  one  extreme,  one  can  easily 
and  of  itself  pass  over  into  the  other  extreme,  and 
this  is  bound  to  injure  the  life  of  our  soul.  He 
who  dies,  knows  that  he  will  not  find  God  and 
the  Savior  alone  by  themselves,  but  he  will  find 
them  surrounded  by  a  world  of  saints.  Not  a 
Father  alone,  but  a  Fatherhouse,  and  in  that 
Fatherhouse  the  many  mansions,  and  in  those 
mansions,  with  God's  angels,  the  saints  that  have 
gone  before. 

And  though  we  speak  of  this  world  of  glory  as 
of  the  world  above,  because  we  can  not  think  of 
it  otherwise  than  as  being  far  exalted  above  this 
guilty  earth,  we  well  know  that  this  distinction  is 
not  a  separation,  and  that  already  here  on  earth 

512 


communioii  with  that  world  is  possible.  When 
the  Psalmist  would  praise  God,  he  calls  upon  the 
angels  to  praise  and  bless  the  Lord  (Ps.  103) .  There 
is  an  host  of  the  Lord  that  encampeth  round  about 
them  that  fear  God.  Not  only  Satan,  the  head  of 
fallen  angels,  but  good  angels,  too,  are  in  com- 
munication with  our  soul.  And  in  moments  of 
blessed  elevation  of  spirit  the  soul  has  been  con- 
scious of  the  nearness  of  the  good  spirits  of  God, 
and  it  has  seemed  that  they  made  us  feel  in  a 
more  tender  and  more  intimate  way  the  nearness 
of  our  God. 

We  undergo  the  same  inworking  for  good  or  for 
evil  from  men.  One  evil-minded  person  in  your 
environment  can  draw  your  soul  away  from  God, 
estrange  every  utterance  of  life  from  God,  and 
throw  you  back  into  your  earthly,  sinful  shallow- 
ness. On  the  other  hand,  one  devoted  child  of 
God  in  your  midst  can  effect  the  exclusion  of 
every  unholy  suggestion  from  conversation,  the 
opening  up  of  the  soul,  and  the  closer  approach 
to  God. 

Such  is  the  case  here.  He  who  accustoms  him- 
self to  enter  into  the  life  of  the  holy  world  of 
God's  angels,  and  already  here  on  earth  admits 
the  company  of  the  saints  into  the  circle  of  the 
perceptions  of  his  own  soul  will  thereby  not  only 
banish  evil,  but  will  himself  attain  a  holier  mood, 
will  feel  himself  supported  in  praise  and  prayer, 
and  will  encounter  far  less  difficulty  in  raising  ham- 
self  from  his  earthly  life  to  the  nearness  of  his 
God. 

We  were  not  created  for  solitariness.  The 
moment  when,  deserted  of  all,  you  have  to  fight 
your   fight   alone,   you    feel    that   something   un- 

513 


natural  has  come  upon  you.  Not  alone,  but  "With 
all  the  saints,"  we  will  come  to  the  knowledge  of 
our  God,  and  if  in  eternity  it  will  be  the  wonder- 
ful exaltation  of  life  together  with  all  angels  and 
all  saints  to  glorify  God  forever,  why,  then,  should 
we  forsake  and  neglect  the  glorious  power  which 
already  here  on  earth  can  unfold  in  our  prayer,  if 
by  anticipation  we  live  already  here  in  the  blesaed 
communion,  which  awaits  us  up  yonder.  With  all 
God's  saints  we  are  one  body  in  Christ,  as  our 
head,  but  on  earth  we  taste  little  of  the  fellowship 
of  the  whole  body  of  the  Lord.  On  the  other 
hand,  communion  with  saints  and  God's  angels  is 
continually  open  to  us.  Blessed  is  he  who  not  only 
enjoys  this  in  his  own  soul,  but  also  knows  how 
to  inspire  thereby  the  nearness  of  his  God. 

95 

"STRIVING  AGAINST  SIN." 

One  who  in  mature  years,  and  in  his  right  mind, 
does  not  strive  from  time  to  time  against  some 
sin  or  other,  can  scarcely  be  im^^gined.  The 
human  heart  is  an  impenetrable  riddle.  Even 
with  sneak  thieves  and  drunkards  we  are  often 
amazed  at  a  coy  tenderness  that  shows  disgust 
with  one  or  more  sins,  which  in  better  circles  are 
altogether  too  frequently  given  free  passage.  But 
repression  of  some  striking  sin,  in  the  case  of  one- 
self or  of  others,  is  by  no  means  always  yet  what 
the  apostle  calls  the  struggle  against  sin.  Every- 
thing here  depends  on  what  occasions  the  struggle 
against  this  or  that  sin.  One  will  resist  such  a 
sin  from  concern  about  his  health.  This  is  often 
preponderant  with  respect  to  sensual  sin.  Another 

614 


takes  care  of  himself,  because,  in  case  his  sin  be- 
came known,  it  would  injure  his  good  name.  A 
third  strives  against  a  temptation  because  indul- 
gence would  ruin  him  financially.  A  fourth  puts 
a  mark  against  a  given  sin  because  in  his  narrower 
circle  of  life  it  is  sharply  condemned.  Only  think 
of  Sabbath  desecration.  And  in  this  way,  by  all 
sorts  of  persons,  one  sin  or  another  is  resisted 
from  reasons  that  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
real  struggle  against  sin.  With  not  a  few,  indeed, 
there  is  no  mention  whatever  of  a  conscious 
motive,  and  all  their  striving  against  this  or  that 
sin  springs  from  a  certain  moral  instinct,  from  the 
judgment  of  public  opinion,  or  from  the  desire  to 
be  decent.  In  this  way  profanity  has  become  notice- 
ably less  in  our  civilized  circles,  but  far  more  be- 
cause it  is  now  considered  coarse  and  uncivilized, 
than  from  fear  of  the  holy  God. 

All  such  resistance  against  all  sorts  of  sin,  how- 
ever, should  not  be  judged  from  the  heights  as 
indifferent.  Because  of  its  very  contagiousness 
every  open  sin  is  most  dangerous.  Apart  from  its 
guilt  before  God,  sin  by  itself  is  moral  sickness, 
and  everything  that  opposes  the  outbreak  or 
progress  of  this  sickness  is  gain.  Only  the  struggle 
against  sin  in  any  form,  without  higher  motive, 
brings  no  spiritual  gain.  David's  saying:  "Against 
thee,  thee  only,  have  I  sinned,"  remains  the  funda- 
mental rule.  And  only  when  we  strive  against 
sin,  because  sin  opposes  God,  does  our  struggle 
obtain  the  holy,  the  higher  character. 

The  struggle  against  sin,  because  sin  strives 
against  God  and  God  strives  against  sin,  brings 
us  near  unto  God.  The  struggle  then  remains  no 
longer  merely  moral,  but  it  becomes  religious — an 

515 


expression  of  godliness,  and  at  the  same  time  a 
precious  means  of  cherishing  nearness  unto  God. 
See  it  in  the  life  of  nations  and  associations,  how 
waging  a  common  war  brings  people  together, 
closely  unites  them,  and  makes  connections  for 
the  present  and  the  future. 

When  France  at  length  obtained  Russia  as  an 
ally,  Russian  sailors  in  Paris  were  almost  carried 
on  hands.  In  the  war  of  the  Boers  against  Eng- 
land every  Dutchman  felt  his  heart  beat  in  sym- 
pathy with  that  of  his  fellow  countrymen  in  South 
Africa.  From  fear  of  Russia-  the  English  and 
Japanese  have  become  brothers.  The  same  is  seen 
in  the  life  of  society  and  church.  In  times  of 
election  unions  arise  between  temporal  allies, 
which  govern  their  entire  future.  It  is  seen  in 
every  domain  that  nothing  unites  so  closely,  and 
brings  one  so  near  to  another,  as  the  struggle 
against  a  common  foe. 

The  same  applies  to  the  struggle  against  sin, 
when  it  is  honestly  carried,  because  sin  is  inimical 
to  God.  For  then  God  and  you  fight  the  same 
fight.  Then  this  fight  of  itself  makes  you  join 
yourself  to  God.  Then  you  do  not  fight  alone, 
but  with  your  God.  With  the  weapons  which 
God  provides  for  this  warfare,  under  Christ  as 
your  leader.  And  then  nothing  brings  you  so 
near  unto  God,  and  keeps  you  there,  as  the  life- 
long continuance  of  the  bitter  fight  against  the 
enemj^  of  God,  and  of  your  own  soul,  and  of  the 
soul  of  your  loved  ones. 

And  then  it  is  not  a  life-struggle  against  one 
particular  sin,  but  against  sin,  i.  e.  against  all  sin- 
ful influences,  inspirations  and  workings,  which  go 
out   from   Satan   upon  yourself  and  your   entire 

616 


surrounding.  Indeed,  there  are  bosom-sins,  and 
it  is  no  minor  fault,  when  the  heart  is  so  little 
known  to  itself,  that  no  confession  can  be  made 
before  God  of  the  sin  that  most  assaults  and  con- 
quers self.  And  it  cannot  fail  but  that  everyone 
who  takes  his  private  life  seriously  is  more  par- 
ticularly on  his  guard  against  certain  definite  sins, 
and  in  his  thoughts  and  prayers  is  more  engaged 
with  these,  than  with  other  sins.  His  stniggle 
directs  itself  most  against  that  evil  which  over- 
came and  injured  him  most.  And  in  memory 
thereof  the  shame  and  sorrow  because  of  defeat  in 
the  struggle  against  this  particular  sin,  will  intrude 
themselves  most  strongly  upon  him.  It  was  this 
sin  which  inflicted  the  most  cruel  wound,  and  left 
behind  the  blackest  mark. 

But  do  not  fail  to  observe  the  danger  which 
this  implies.  For  is  it  not  heart-breaking  to  see 
the  number  of  lesser  sins  in  their  character  to 
which  even  earnest  Christians  are  stone  blind? 
And  the  burden  of  this  guilt  rests  for  no  small 
part  upon  this  one-sided  striving  against  a  par- 
ticular, great  sin.  Where  a  greater  danger 
threatens,  all  sorts  of  lesser  dangers  that  might 
harm  are  of  themselves  almost  lost  from  sight. 
When  a  loved  one  lies  at  the  point  of  death,  no 
one  inquires  after  the  concerns  of  cellar  and 
kitchen.  When  a  rynaway  horse  races  through  the 
streets,  no  one  is  on  the  lookout  for  muddy  places, 
but  makes  himself  scarce.  When  fire  breaks  out 
in  the  house,  no  one  attends  to  the  draught  from 
an  opei  window.  In  saving  a  man  from  drowning, 
no  one  is  concerned  about  the  incidental  tearing  of 
clothes.  When  war  breaks  out,  of  itself  all  sorts 
of  other  quarrels,  however  important,  are  silenced. 

517 


And  thus  a  more  serious  evil  will  always  cause 
the  struggle  against  a  lesser  evil  to  weaken. 

And  such  is  also  the  case  with  respect  to  the 
soul.  When  the  struggle  is  continued  to  resist 
and  to  repel  the  particular  sin  which  tempts  one 
the  most  strongly,  a  number  of  other  sins  have 
almost  free  play  and  their  progress  is  unnoticed. 
He  who  perseveres  in  the  main  fight  against 
arrogance  and  pride,  against  sensual  propensity, 
or  avarice,  is  thereby  exposed  to  the  danger  that 
little  untruths,  dishonesties,  infidelities,  bitter- 
nesses, vanities,  selfishnesses  and  so  much  more, 
become  almost  a  second  nature,  strike  root  in  his 
heart  ever  more  firmly,  and  soil  his  inner  life. 
This  is  only  discovered  when  at  last  the  chief 
enemy  has  been  as  good  as  worsted.  Then  tender- 
ness of  conscience  begins  immediately  to  work 
with  these  erstwhile  neglected  sins,  and  one  is 
frightened  at  the  sight  of  the  luxurious  growth  of 
weeds  in  the  garden  of  the  heart. 

And  to  what  cause  can  this  sad  outcome  be 
attributed  save  to  this,  that  one  struggled  bravely 
indeed  to  free  himself  from  his  worst  enemy,  but 
utterly  lost  sight  of  the  struggle  against  sin, 
because  God  strives  against  it.  It  continued  to  be 
an  effort  to  set  one's  person  free,  to  measure  his 
strength  of  spirit  and  will  against  the  strength  of 
this  particular  sin;  dissatisfaction  with  self,  in 
case  of  defeat,  and  the  determination  not  to  rest 
until  victory  was  gained.  But  all  this  went  on 
outside  of  the  secret  walk  with  God.  Divine  help 
was  invoked  to  worst  the  enemy  of  the  soul,  but 
there  was  no  awakening  of  soul  to  beat  off,  as  a 
poisonous  adder,  the  enemy  of  our  God.  And, 
therefore,  such   a  struggle   could   not  bring  you 

518 


nearer  unto  God,  but  every  time  threw  you  back 
upon  j^ourself. 

Should  we  then  give  up  the  struggle  against 
the  sin  that  tempts  us  most,  that  we  might  resist 
the  numerous  lesser  sins?  By  no  means.  He  who 
leaves  the  main  entrance  to  a  fortress  unprotected 
merely  to  repel  assaults  at  the  side  entrances,  will, 
when  presently  attacked  from  behind,  have  to  give 
up  all  further  resistance.  No,  what  you  should 
do,  is,  with  an  eye  open  to  the  moral  danger  that 
threatens,  by  a  far  more  serious  exertion  of 
strength,  the  sooner  the  better  to  make  an  end 
of  the  struggle  against  your  chief  sin,  not  by  giv- 
ing it  free  play,  but  by  breaking  with  it  once  and 
for  all.  Thus  alone  will  3^ou  obtain  a  free  hand, 
in  the  Lord's  strength,  to  bring  spiritual  harmony 
in  the  further  discords  of  the  soul.  That  this  is 
possible  is  evident  from  the  witness  borne  by  many 
a  disciplined  child  of  God,  who  at  length  has  put 
on  the  whole  armor  of  God,  and  has  triumphed 
gloriously.  The  mistake  is,  that  one  makes  his 
leading  sin  his  bosom  sin,  and  then  views  it  as 
an  evil  which  by  some  fatality  he  is  bound  to 
resist  until  death.  The  enigma  of  our  human 
heart  is,  that  we  resist  our  main  sin  most  con- 
tinuously and  at  the  same  time  cozen  it.  A 
duality  within,  in  which,  through  lack  of  heroic 
action,  we  accustom  ourselves  to  what  is  deemed 
to  be  a  necessity  of  life. 

Then  it  is  not  the  spirit  within  us,  which,  united 
with  the  Spirit  of  God,  fights  in  our  soul  the  fight 
of  God  against  sin,  for  the  sake  of  God,  but  a 
ience.  This  evil,  however,  must  be  broken.  It 
must  become  a  life-struggle  against  every  sin 
and  against  the  sinful  nature,  for  the  sake  of  the 

519 


holiness  of  God.  In  order  to  come  nearer  unto 
God,  the  child  of  God  must  take  service  under 
Christ  in  the  warfare  which  God  himself  wages 
against  Satan  and  his  works,  and  thus  obtain  a 
twofold  result:  that  whereas  hitherto  he  suffered 
defeat,  now  he  conquers,  and  that  whereas  he  thus 
far  wandered  away  from  God,  now  he  knows  him- 
self to  be  near  unto  God. 

96 
"LIVE  IN  PEACE." 

When  Asaph  wrote:  "But  it  is  good  for  me  to 
be  near  unto  God,"  and  thereby  expressed  in 
words  a  deep  utterance  of  soul,  which  age  upon 
age  has  found  an  echo  in  thousands  of  hearts, 
life  had  many  more  advantages  for  those  who 
sought  the  Lord  than  it  has  for  us  now.  In  the 
East,  where  Asaph  lived,  it  is  still  the  custom  that 
every  event  in  life  is  put  into  relation  with  God; 
that  in  everything  God  is  remembered,  and  the 
name  of  God  is  named.  There  is  so  much  that 
draws  us  away  from  God,  and  therefore,  pious 
usage  prescribed,  that  from  early  infancy  the  child 
should  be  trained  to  remember  God  in  every  event 
of  life.  This  is  still  the  custom  under  Islam, 
where  it  is  overdone,  even  to  the  extent  that  it 
must  give  rise  to  abuse. 

But  there  is  something  attractive  in  the  habit. 
The  call  to  prayer  from  the  pinnacle  of  the 
minarets  has  the  same  tendency.  Where  there 
is  so  much  that  draws  us  away  from  God  and 
keeps  us  far  removed,  a  counterpoise  was  sought 
in  life  by  which  to  bind  the  soul  to  God.  The 
Christian    church    did    the    same    in    the    middle 

520 


ages.  The  ringing  of  bells,  the  stations  of  the 
cross,  crucifixes,  and  so  much  more,  all  tended  to 
quicken  the  thought  of  Christ.  And  in  the  age 
of  the  Reformation  our  fathers  tried  to  reach  the 
same  end  by  putting  prayer  in  between  every- 
thing, by  multiplying  church  services,  and  by  the 
effort  to  sanctify  every  event  of  life  in  God.  Not 
only  testaments,  but  also  contracts  of  rents  were 
begun  in  the  name  of  God.  On  coins  the  words 
appeared,  "God  with  us,"  or,  as  in  the  United 
States  of  America,  "In  God  we  trust,"  and  wher- 
ever it  was  possible  God's  holy  name  was  brought 
to  remembrance.  An  atmosphere  prevailed  in  this 
which  was  pregnant  with  something  of  the  holy, 
sometimes  even  too  much  so.  To  this  was  added 
that  in  the  days  of  Asaph  and  of  our  fathers  the 
religious  undulation  was  far  stronger,  and  relig- 
ion occupied  a  far  broader  place  in  life. 

But  we  have  everything  against  us.  In  society 
life  the  name  of  God  is  scarcely  ever  mentioned. 
No  bells  are  rung.  An  entirely  different  world  of 
thoughts  fills  minds  and  hearts.  He  who  tries 
to  keep  up  sacred  usages  is  criticized  as  being 
old-fashioned,  if  he  is  not  scorned.  A  life  divested 
of  God  and  his  name  is  most  desired.  And  as 
regards  religious  undulation,  it  still  continues  in 
small  circles,  but  the  tidal  wave  of  life  goes, 
purely  materially,  for  money  and  sensual  pleasure. 
In  such  a  time  "to  be  near  unto  God"  requires  a 
double  effort,  and  nothing  should  be  neglected, 
neither  positively  nor  negatively,  that  here  may 
have  effect.  Positively  every  means  should  be 
persistently  applied  to  engage  the  soul  with  God 
each  day  for  a  longer  period  of  time  and  with 
greater  intimacy;  and  negatively  by  opposing  and 


resisting  everything  that  hinders  or  prevents  our 
communion  with  God. 

Does  the  church  of  Christ  understand  the  great 
interest  that  is  here  at  stake?  Can  it  be  said, 
that  an  effort  is  in  evidence,  at  least  within  the 
church,  to  pursue  this  exalted  aim?  As  one  means 
"to  be  near  unto  God,"  the  Apostle  indicates  a 
''life  in  peace."  His  exhortation  runs:  "Be  of 
one  mind,  live  in  peace,  and  the  God  of  love  and 
of  peace  shall  be  with  you"  (II  Cor.  13:11).  And 
yet  this  peace  is  continually  broken.  Let  us  be 
well  understood.  It  does  not  say,  that  there  may 
no  differences  arise,  nor  that  with  every  difference 
safety  must  be  sought  in  indifference.  Paul  did 
not  do  this.  No,  the  point  in  question  is  the 
spirit  in  which  differences  are  faced  and  settled. 
A  twofold  impulse  may  have  play.  On  one  side 
the  holy  impulse,  in  the  face  of  differences  to  be 
doubly  on  our  guard,  that  love  shall  suffer  no 
less,  and  that  no  unholy  word  shall  escape  our 
lips  or  pen.  But  also  on  the  other  side  the  un- 
holy impulse,  in  the  face  of  differences  to  allow 
one's  bitter  mind  free  play,  to  give  one's  passion 
to  annoy  free  rein,  and  to  inflict  whatever  pain 
one  can.  With  the  first,  one  puts  himself  in  an 
atmosphere  of  love  and  peace.  With  the  second, 
one  breathes  an  atmosphere  of  bitterness  and 
anger. 

In  the  church  it  is  the  same  as  in  the  family. 
Between  husband  and  wife,  between  parents  and 
children,  and  between  children  among  themselves, 
differences  continually  arise.  It  can  not  be  other- 
wise. Interests,  insights  and  endeavors  run  in 
opposite  directions.  But  see  the  difference  be- 
tween   one   family   and   another.     In   the   family 

522 


that  is  of  a  noble  mind,  a  limit  is  put  upon  these 
differences,  a  spirit  of  love  prevails,  which  of 
itself  opens  a  way  of  escape.  And  where  love 
dwells,  the  Lord  commands  this  blessing,  that 
hearts  remain  united.  But  next  to  this,  alas,  how 
many  families  there  are  in  which  pains  are  not 
spared  to  measure  out  the  difference  as  broadly  as 
possible,  to  put  the  sharpest  arrow,  as  long  as  it  is 
not  poisonous,  on  one's  bow,  and  where  again  and 
again  husband  and  wife,  parents  and  children, 
brothers  and  sisters  face  one  another  like  furies. 
This  is  always  the  same  antithesis  which  we  have 
indicated.  This*  sinful  earth  brings  us  no  world, 
no  family  or  church,  without  differences  or  dis- 
putes. But  it  all  depends  whether  a  dispute  in 
family  or  in  church  finds  an  atmosphere  of  love 
and  peace,  or  one  of  bitterness  and  anger. 

And  now  the  Apostle  points  out  that  cherishing 
the  atmosphere  of  love  and  peace  is  not  only  a 
Christian  duty,  which  brings  gladness  and  com- 
fort into  life,  but  that  it  Js  also  a  necessary 
requisite  for  the  cultivation  of  life  in  fellowship 
with  God.  A  child  of  God  can,  and  indeed  must, 
be  near  unto  God.  and  live  in  communion  with 
God.  even  amid  conditions  of  restlessness  and 
strife.  He  who  perseveres  obtains  this  blessed 
end.  But,  0,  it  is  made  thereby  unspeakably 
much  more  difficult.  Where  the  atmosphere  that 
surrounds  us  is  charged  with  evil  electricity,  and 
the  tongue  can  not  be  held  in  leash,  and  discord 
rends  the  robe  of  love,  and  the  passion  of  strife 
breaks  loose,  everything  draws  the  heart  away 
from  communion  with  its  God.  There  the  peace 
of  God,  that  passeth  all  understanding,  can  not 
fill  the  soul.    There  is  no  calm  there  and  no  in- 

523 


ward  restfulness  to  lift  oneself  up  from  this 
earthly  sphere  into  the  world  above,  and  to  enjoy 
the  bliss  of  nearness  unto  God.  And  then  in  two 
ways  harm  is  done.  First,  you  fail  of  one  of  the 
most  precious  means  of  being  near  to  God;  and 
again  you  become  subject  to  the  dominion  of  an 
element  that  inserts  itself  with  separating  effect 
between  you  and  your  God. 

A  gently  tempered  mmd  can,  with  respect  to 
this,  be  a  blessing  to  a  whole  family,  to  a  whole 
community;  and  a  mind  that  is  poisoned  with  the 
bitterness  of  gall  can  spoil  the  tone  and  spirit  of 
an  entire  family  and  an  entire  community,  and 
make  godliness  therein  to  suffer  bitter  loss.  Of 
every  thoughtless  and  unholy  word,  and  also  of 
every  bitter  and  irritable  frame  of  mind,  account 
must  once  be  made  before  God.  For  do  not  for- 
get, that  nothing  trains  the  mind  and  heart  so 
effectively  as  the  custom  and  the  habit  which 
form  and  govern  the  condition  and  the  mood  of 
heart  and  mind. 

If  you  have  once  acquired  the  habit  of  holding 
yourself  back  and  of  self-control,  and  when  Satan 
places  poison  into  your  hands,  at  once  to  reach  out 
for  the  alabaster  box  of  precious  ointment,  the 
struggle  becomes  gradually  easier,  the  effort  to 
encourage  stillness  more  lovely,  and  the  joy  of 
having  cultivated  peace  and  love  increasingly  rich. 
If,  on  the  other  hand,  you  give  way  to  your 
sharpness,  to  your  passion,  to  your  bitterness  of 
mind,  you  lose  more  and  more  the  power  of  self- 
control,  and  create  for  yourself  and  your  sur- 
roundings unspeakable  harm  and  wTong. 

The  peace  of  which  the  apostle  speaks  has  noth- 
ing to  do  with  sentimentalism,  with  lack  of  cour- 

624 


age  to  speak,  with  being  blind  to  wrong  practices. 
Mere  sentimental  goodness  is  no  sacred  art,  but 
cowardice.  But  this  is  sacred  art:  to  stand  strong 
and  courageous,  in  everything,  and  yet  so  to  take 
hold  of  things,  deal  with  them,  and  settle  them, 
that  no  unholy  spark  starts  fire  in  your  own  mind, 
and  that  you  do  not  disturb  for  a  moment  the 
inward  peace  of  those  who  are  around  you. 

He  whose  piety  is  more  appearance  than  reality, 
cares  for  none  of  these  things.  But  he  who  strives 
unto  the  end  in  every  way  to  keep  sacred  his 
secret  walk  with  God,  and  to  be  continually  near 
unto  God,  can  offer  no  resistance  to  the  stress  of 
this  apostolic  word.  He  feels  in  his  own  soul  that 
the  atmosphere  of  love  and  peace  makes  him 
dwell  near  unto  God,  and  therefore  he  flees  from 
the  sphere  of  strife  and  unrest,  because  it  draws 
him  away  from  God. 


"A  DECEIVED  HEART  HATH  TURNED 
HIM  ASIDE." 

The  world,  our  environment,  our  business,  yea, 
and  what  not,  as  a  rule  leads  us  away  from  God. 
This  means  that  it  takes  definite  effort,  in  the 
midst  of  daily  activities,  to  keep  our  thoughts  and 
utterances  of  soul  directed  toward  God.  There 
have  even  been  whole  days  of  which  at  night  on 
bended  knee,  it  had  to  be  confessed  that  the  mind 
and  soul  had  not  once  been  lifted  up  to  God.  To 
picture  this  in  brighter  colors  than  the  case  war- 
rants, will  not  do.  Thus  and  not  otherwise  is 
the  sad  reality  with  many  whole  days  of  life  in 
which  God  has  had  no  remembrance.     We  were 

525- 


too  busy,  too  overwhelmed,  too  much  diverted 
and  preoccupied  than  that  at  night  we  could  retire 
with  the  blissful  experience  of  how  good  it  was  "to 
be  near  unto  God." 

This  is,  of  course,  exclusively  a  result  of  the 
sinful  character  of  our  earthly  life,  for  by  itself 
there  was  no  need  that  anything  should  draw  us 
away  from  God.  God  does  not  stand  by  the  side 
of  things.  He  is  in  all  things.  From  him,  by  him, 
and  to  him.  Diversion  is  a  necessity  when  too 
onesidedly  and  too  exclusively  our  spirit  has  been 
engaged  with  one  thing.  This  is  noticed  by  the 
staring  eye,  the  exT)ressionless  face,  and  the  con- 
stant return  to  the  same  subject.  And  the 
specialist  recognizes  the  danger  of  this.  When 
the  soul  and  the  mind  are  directed  to  one  thing 
too  onesidedly  and  too  continuously,  so  that  one 
thinks  of  nothing  else,  forgets  everything  else,  and 
involuntarily  keeps  busy  with  the  selfsame  thought, 
there  is  the  beginning  of  mental  disorder,  and 
diversion  is  the  proper  medicine. 

This  is  not  the  case  with  thinking  of  God.  In 
the  created  world  a  number  of  things  stand  side 
by  side  of  one  another,  each  with  their  own  claim, 
and  our  mind  is  normal  when  in  just  .proportions 
we  pay  proper  attention  to  them  all.  If  this  order 
is  broken,  by  thinking  too  much  of  one  thing, 
and  too  little  of  the  other,  equilibrium  is  gone 
and  the  spirit  fails  at  length  in  its  own  confusion. 
God,  on  the  other  hand,  never  stands  by  the  side 
of  a  created  thing.  It  should  never  be  ninety 
parts  of  our  attention  for  the  creature  and  ten 
parts  for  God.  Neither  should  it  be  ten  parts  for 
the  world  and  ninety  parts  for  God.  In  the  full 
one    hundred   parts    of   everytliing   God    is   to   be 

526 


worshipped.  Jesus  emphatically  declares:  Thou 
shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  strength, 
with  all  thy  soul  and  with  all  thy  mind.  In  the 
same  way  the  one  hundred  parts  of  our  strength 
should  be  operative  in  created  things.  But  both 
should  proceed  so  as  to  enter  into  and  permeate 
each  other,  and  together  constitute  one  blessed 
life.  Thus  it  is  in  the  Fatherhouse.  Thus  it  was 
in  paradise.  Thus  it  sometimes  is  here  for  the 
space  of  one  brief  moment.  But  as  a  rule  it  is 
so  no  longer.  There  is  division.  There  is  distraction. 
The  struggle  of  godliness  is  to  oppose  this  division, 
to  resist  this  distraction,  and  j'et,  at  least  parts 
of  each  day  and  parts  of  each  night,  "to  be  near 
unto   God." 

What  divides  and  distracts  should  be  justly 
estimated.  With  respect  to  this,  Adam  is  still 
inclined  to  put  it  upon  Eve,  and  Eve  to  charge 
it  to  the  serpent.  The  world,  the  many  activities 
of  life,  the  diversions  of  the  moment  are  held 
accountable  for  our  distractions  and  life  without 
God.  One  is  busy  from  early  morn  till  late  night, 
and  in  dead  weariness  one  falls  asleep,  sometimes 
before  prayer  is  said.  There  is  no  time  for  God 
and  for  his  service.  There  may  be  for  those  who 
quietly  remain  at  home,  but  not  for  the  man  of 
business.  And  so  life  is  ever  held  accountable, 
the  restlessness  and  noise,  the  ever-enticing  world. 
Or  complaint  is  made  of  the  body.  One  does  not 
feel  well,  headaches,  fevers  and  other  troubles 
keep  the  spirit  bound.  Only  there  is  almost  no 
complaint  of  one's  own  soul.  And  against  this 
Isaiah  enters  his  striking  accusation:  Your  de- 
ceived heart  hath  turned  you  aside. 

Surely  the  world  has  come  in  with  its  entice- 

527 


ments,  life  with  its  activities.  Thereby  you  have 
allowed  your  heart  to  be  deceived.  But  it  is  not 
the  world,  nor  its  activities,  but  your  deceived 
heart  that  has  turned  you  aside.  It  has  even 
turned  you  aside  to  this  extent,  Isaiah  adds,  that 
your  soul  can  no  longer  save  itself,  i.  e.  it  can  no 
longer  escape  from  its  own  intoxication.  Isaiah 
declares  this  regarding  the  man  who  has  an  idol 
for  himself.  A  tree  has  been  taken  home.  The 
knotty  parts  have  been  cut  off,  and  of  the  smooth 
part  the  poor  soul  makes  an  idol.  And  it  is  not 
the  idol  that  is  at  fault,  but  the  idolatrous  thought 
in  the  soul,  which  had  captivated  the  heart,  before 
he  made  his  idol.  That  piece  of  wood,  that  idol 
is  but  the  expression  of  what  went  on  in  his  heart. 
Not  the  idol,  but  his  deceived  heart  turned  him 
aside,  even  so  effectively''  that  at  length  he  no 
longer  sees  the  difference  between  a  piece  of  wood 
and  God.  Or,  as  the  prophets  put  it:  "He  is 
turned  aside  so  far  that  he  can  not  come  to  dis- 
cover that  there  is  a  lie  in  his  right  hand"  (Isaiah 
44:20).  This  selfsame  evil  operates,  not  only 
among  the  heathen,  but,  if  in  another  manner, 
among  Mohammedans,  Jews  and  Christians.  It 
is  a  human  evil.  An  immediate  outcome  of  our 
sinful  nature. 

How  does  this  show  itself?  Very  sharply  and 
clearly,  as  soon  as  a  magnet  operates  upon  the 
heart,  which  attracts,  interests  and  holds  the 
attention,  and  which  involuntarily  and  of  itself 
again  and  again  stimulates  the  soul  and  the 
senses,  fills  the  thoughts,  animates  conversation 
and  brings  one  into  a  fanatical  state  of  mind. 
This  does  not  mean  the  tension  and  activity  of 
spirit,   when   duty,   business,   the   course    of   con- 

528 


versation,  etc.,  arrest  the  attention  to  itself.  On 
the  contrary,  in  this  case  lack  of  attention  and 
neglect  of  due  examination  of  the  interest  at  stake, 
is  a  fault;  and  may  even  be  a  sin.  No,  the  idol- 
atrous turning  aside  of  one's  inner  self  only  be- 
comes apparent  when  this  magnet  continuously 
draws,  and  even  without  occasion,  and  when  the 
drawing  does  not  operate  from  without,  but  from 
one's  own  heart. 

There  are  people  who,  when  they  come  to 
you,  you  instinctively  know  in  advance  what  they 
will  talk  about.  There  is  but  one  thing  that  fills 
their  minds.  One  interest  to  which  they  are  con- 
tinually awake.  With  one  it  is  money,  the  idea  of 
becoming  rich,  of  increasing  gains  in  every  way. 
With  another  it  is  pleasure  and  the  desire  to 
shine.  With  a  third  it  is  art,  music,  a  concert,  a 
piece  of  literature,  a  museum,  so  long  as  it  is  dedi- 
cated to  art,  and  makes  an  artistic  showing.  With 
another,  again,  it  is  a  scientific  problem  which 
constantly  pursues  him.  With  another,  again,  it 
is  politics,  or  society  gossip,  or  the  hunt,  or  sport. 
In  all  this,  spiritual  sickness  is  symptomatically 
present  as  soon  as  one  particular  interest,  even 
apart  from  special  occasion,  of  itself  engages  the 
attention,  animates  and  preoccupies,  and  renders 
one  dense  and  unsympathetic  with  respect  to 
other  things. 

For  then  there  is  one-sided  concentration  of 
mind  upon  one  given  point.  This  one  thing  is, 
then,  the  main  thing,  to  which  everything  else  is 
rendered  subservient.  This  means  to  say  that 
this  one  thing  takes  the  place  with  him,  which  in 
a  normal  condition  of  soul,  is  only  accorded  to 
God.     And  thus  it  becomes  idolatrous.    It  is  the 

529 


one  absorbing  subject  of  thought.  One  never  get5 
through  talking  about  it.  No  sacrifice  is  deemed 
too  great  in  its  behalf.  One  devotes  himself  to  it 
with  all  his  soul  and  mind.  Nothing  higher  is 
known  and  respected.  With  respect  to  it  even 
brotherhoods  are  formed,  insomuch  as  one  is  in- 
terested only  in  those  who  live  in  behalf  of  the 
same  interest  and  are  absorbed  by  the  selfsame 
thing.  With  those  who  live  like  this  the  equilib- 
rium is  broken,  and  the  highest  place,  which  is 
God's  right  to  fill,  is  occupied  by  this  other  thing, 
which  they  love  with  all  their  heart,  and  with  all 
their  mind,  and  to  which  they  devote  themselves 
with  all  their  strength. 

Now,  it  is  self-evident,  that  being  magnetized 
in  this  idolatrous  fashion,  does  not  occur  with 
Christians  in  this  literal  sense.  This  neither  can 
be  so,  nor  is  it  so.  He  with  whom  this  is  the 
case  may  announce  himself  as  a  Christian,  but  a 
Christian  he  is  not.  But  from  this  it  by  no  means 
follows,  that  the  child  of  God  is  not  exposed  to 
this  danger.  It  is  even  confessed,  of  those  who 
have  most  earnestly  sought  after  the  secret  walk 
with  God,  that  no  sin  was  so  constantly  at  the- 
door  of  their  heart  as  this  inclination  to  allow 
themselves,  by  the  workings  of  their  own  heart, 
their  soul  and  their  mind,  to  be  turned  away  from 
God  to  creaturely  things  or  creaturely  thoughts. 
To  be  full  of  the  Holy  Ghost  means,  that  the 
desire  of  the  heart,  which  goes  out  after  God  and 
holy  things,  is  constant.  He  with  whom  this  is 
the  case  does  not  need  to  repress  other  things 
from  his  thoughts  in  order  that  he  might  think  ot 
God.  Involuntarily  he  thinks  of  God,  and  of  othef 
things  only  by  special  effort. 

530 


But  what  continually  occurs,  even  among  Chris- 
tians, is  the  very  opposite,  to-wit:  That  of  itself 
all  sorts  of  other  things  are  subject  of  thought, 
and  that  only  by  determinate  effort  the  soul  is 
engaged  with  God.  If,  now,  these  are  every  time 
other,  alternating  things,  the  danger  is  not  so 
great.  For  then  it  is  not  one  given  thing  that 
captivates  the  heart,  and  the  worship  of  God 
stands  high  above  every  other  interest.  On  the 
other  hand,  however,  the  danger  is  great  when  the 
heart  allows  itself  to  be  turned  aside  onesidedly 
to  one  given  thing  or  to  one  special  sort  of  things, 
which  enthuse  us  and  engage  the  heart,  for  then 
they  are  apt  again  and  again  to  take  the  place 
in  the  heart  which  belongs  alone  to  God. 

You  can  not  be  near  unto  God  and  have  part 
in  his  secret  walk,  when  involuntarily  and  of  itself 
magnetically  you  are  every  time  turned  aside 
again  to  things  that  are  finite.  For  then  the 
heart  has  deceived  itself  and  the  deceived  heart 
has  turned  you  aside.  And,  therefore,  when  you 
struggle,  and  feel  that  your  life  is  not  one  that  is 
near  unto  God,  then  cease  to  complain  onesidedly 
of  the  world,  of  your  environment  and  of  your 
busy  life,  as  though  these  alone  turn  you  aside 
from  God.     Rather  turn  in  upon  yourself.     Spy 

our  thoughts,  conversations  and  perceptions. 
\nd  when  you  see  that  not  alone,  and  not  even 
aostly  from  without,  but  from  these  thoughts 
within  there  arises  the  diverting  working,  which 
disturbs  your  fellowship  with  God,  and  prevents 
you  from  living  near  unto  God,  then  cast  down 
this  idol  within  and  destroy  it. 

There  is  no  room  for  Christ  and  Belial  in  one 
and  the  selfsame  heart.     Or  do  you  not  know, 

531 


with  St.  Paul:    "Do  ye  not  know  your  own  selves, 
how  that  Jesus  Christ  is  in  you?"  (II  Cor,  13:5). 


''WHATSOEVER  YE  DO,  DO  IT  HEARTILY, 
AS  TO  THE  LORD." 

God,  in  his  word,  opposes  every  tendency  and 
every  effort  to  break  up  life  into  two  parts;  one 
for  ourselves  and  one  for  God.  He  allows  no 
division,  no  separation;  no  six  days  of  the  week 
for  us  and  Sunday  for  God.  No  unconsecrated 
life  interspersed  with  consecrated  moments.  No 
unhallowed  existence  through  which  at  distances 
a  sacred  thread  is  interwoven.  No  life  apart  from 
religion  marked  here  and  there  with  piety.  No, 
the  claim  of  Scripture  on  this  point  is  absolute, 
and  though  it  seems  strange  to  us,  the  claim 
remains:  'Tray  without  ceasing;"  in  everything 
give  thanks;  rejoice  in  God  always;  and:  "What- 
soever ye  do,  do  it  heartily,  as  to  the  Lord" 
(Col.  3:23). 

To  Thessalonica  Paul  WTites:  'Tray  without 
ceasing.  Rejoice  evermore.  In  everything  give 
thanks"  (I  Thess.  5 :  16, 17, 18) .  To  the  Philippians : 
"Rejoice  in  the  Lord  always"  (Phil.  4:4).  And  to 
those  at  Colosse:  '"Whatsoever  ye  do,  do  it 
heartily,  as  to  the  Lord"  (Col.  3:23).  There  is  no 
respite  given.  No  compact  made  with  you.  God 
takes  no  pleasure  with  anything  less  than  all  of 
your  life.  Where  faith  becomes  the  rule  of  life,  its 
dominion  aims  to  be  absolute.  No  finds,  no  ex- 
cuses, no  half-measures  are  tolerated.  He  who 
would  live  this  life  as  a  child  of  God,  as  a  servant 
of  Jesus  Christ,  inspired  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  must 

532 


be  led  and  carried  in  everything  by  faith.  He  who 
divides  and  makes  distinctions  robs  God  of  a  part 
that  is  God's.  If  you  would  love  God  with  all 
your  heart,  with  all  your  soul,  with  all  your  mind 
and  with  all  your  strength,  every  subterfuge  is 
closed  off,  and  the  all-claiming  and  all-demanding 
character  of  faith  is  founded  in  Love  itself. 

Every  division  works  injury  to  your  life,  and 
to  your  religion.  He  who  makes  division  here,  and 
does  too  much  for  religion,  neglects  his  family  or 
his  calling.  And  he  who  divides  and  is  not  pious, 
gives  the  lion-share  to  the  world,  and  with  an 
avaricious  heart  deducts  from  what  he  pretends  to 
set  aside  for  God  in  strength,  time  and  money. 
He  who  would  have  the  blessing  of  nearness  unto 
God  and  of  going  through  life  in  secret  fellow- 
ship with  God,  can  not  cultivate  it  spasmodically. 
With  him  God  must  be  known  in  everything  he 
undertakes  to  do.  God  must  be  the  sole  end  and 
aim,  God  must  be  entreated  and  given  thanks. 
This  can  not  be  done  in  a  formal  way  with  closing 
of  eyes  and  folding  of  hands  and  muttering  of 
words,  but  in  the  inmost  chamber  of  the  heart 
and  in  that  hidden  recess  of  self-consciousness 
whence  are  the  issues  of  life  as  well  as  of  prayer. 

This  is  opposed  by  the  idea  that  a  clergyman 
•can  continually  turn  this  fellowship  with  God  into 
a  reality  in  life,  but  not  a  business  man;  that 
the  man  or  woman  who  is  zealous  for  missions, 
philanthropy  or  evangelization,  stands  in  holy 
service  before  God,  but  not  the  father  and  mother 
in  the  family.  The  work  of  a  clergj-man,  mis- 
sionary or  nurse  is  then  called  consecrated  labor, 
and  the  work  performed  by  the  gardener,  merchant 
or  seamstress  is  said  to  be  secular.    This  false  rep- 

533 


resentation  of  the  matter  has  worked  much  injury 
to  piety  and  to  vital  godliness. 

It  goes  without  saying  that  he  Who  ministers 
in  the  sanctuary  is  of  itself  more  closely  engaged 
with  holy  things,  and  enjoys  an  uncommon  priv- 
ilege, of  which  he  shall  give  an  account  before 
God.  Nor  can  it  be  denied  that  at  the  exchange 
and  in  the  shop  it  takes  more  effort  and  victory 
over  self  to  continue  in  everything  near  unto  God. 
This  is  a  greater  struggle  in  which  God  knows 
what  we  are  made  of,  and  is  mindful  that  we  are 
dust.  But  by  the  side  of  this  stands  the  fact  that 
ministering  in  the  sanctuary  brings  with  it  in  no 
small  measure  the  danger  of  becoming  accustomed 
to  holy  things,  and  of  handling  the  same  more  and 
more  with  unholy  hands,  whereby  judgment  is 
made  so  much  the  heavier.  In  best  churches  and 
in  most  excellent  missions  also  evil  times  returned 
again  and  again,  in  which  priests  and  priestesses 
profaned  the  sanctuary,  and  when  not  from  among 
them,  but  from  among  plain  patrons  and  working 
people  and  shop-keepers  and  merchants  the  new 
action  arose,  which  restored  the  holy  to  honor.  A 
pious  preacher,  a  godly  missionary,  a  consecrated 
nurse,  and  likewise  a  truly  godly  warden,  elder  or 
deacon,  represents  a  glorious  power.  But  it  is  a 
mistake  to  think  that  of  itself  the  more  conse- 
crated calling  brings  true  godliness  with  it.  Young 
preachers  of  tender  consciences,  have  frequently 
been  bound  to  confess  that  they  were  put  to 
shamo  bv  the  godliness  of  manj^  a  plain  member 
of  their  congregation. 

534 


Moreover,  it  must  be  granted  that  in  our  ex- 
tremely defective  condition  certain  definite  and 
special  consecration  of  a  part  of  our  life,  of  our 
strength  and  of  our  money  to  religious  activities 
and  interests  is  necessary.  You  can  not  serve  God 
all  the  days  of  your  life  in  such  a  way  but  that 
the  day  of  rest  retains  its  supreme  significance. 
You  can  not  continue  near  unto  God  in  every- 
thing you  do  in  such  a  way,  but  that  the  particu- 
lar moments  of  direct  prayer,  of  worship  in  the 
Word,  and  of  thanksgiving  and  praise  continue 
to  be  a  need  of  the  heart.  Neither  can  you  prac- 
tice justice  and  compassion  in  everything  in  such 
a  way,  but  that  setting  apart  of  special  gifts  for 
the  service  of  God  is  appreciated  by  you  as  a 
sacred  duty. 

In  the  Jerusalem  above  this  duality  also  shall 
fall  away.  The  church  triumphant  in  heaven 
shall  not  stand  in,  nor  by  the  side  of,  the  life  of 
glory,  but  shall  be  that  life  itself.  But  such  it  is 
not  as  yet  here.  It  can  not  be  otherwise  but  that 
here  this  duality  continues.  The  church  is  some- 
thing else  than  the  family  or  the  shop.  The 
mighty  antithesis  between  things  of  this  world 
and  things  of  the  Kingdom  demands  this.  But 
this  may  never  allow  religion,  piety  or  godliness 
so  to  withdraw  itself  within  the  sacred  domain  as 
to  become  a  churchly  life  with  godliness  by  the 
side  of  a  life  in  the  world  without  godliness.  God- 
liness may  find  a  more  exalted  utterance  within 
the  sacred  domain,  and  impart  strength  for  daily 
636 


life,  but  to  be  true  and  genuine,  it  must  be  a 
golden  thread  that  maintains  its  glistening  bright- 
ness throughout  all  of  life. 

It  all  depends  on  whether  you  truly  believe 
that  God  is  almighty,  the  Creator  of  heaven  and 
earth.  Whether  you  believe  and  consider  that 
ever}'-  material  you  handle  is  his  creature;  that 
every  article  of  food  and  drink  on  your  table  is 
his  creature  and  his  gift;  that  your  body  and  all 
your  senses  are  his  embroidery;  that  every  force 
of  nature  with  which  you  come  in  contact,  is  his 
omnipresent  working;  that  every  circumstance 
you  encounter  has  been  appointed  you  by  God; 
that  every  relation  in  which  you  are  placed  by 
blood,  by  marriage,  by  appointment  or  choice, 
has  come  to  you  under  and  by  his  providential 
plan;  that  your  every  exigency  and  difficulty  has 
been  put  in  your  way  by  God;  that  every  task 
or  duty  to  which  you  are  called  comes  to  you 
from  God  and  has  a  definite  significance  in  his 
government;  that  you  can  not  think  of  anything 
so  high  or  so  low  on  earth  but  it  all  forms  a 
link,  great  or  small,  in  the  chain  of  his  dispo- 
sitions; that  no  joy  is  enjoyed  and  no  suffering 
suffered,  but  God  measures  it  out  to  you;  in 
brief,  that  nothing  can  be  thought  of  in  heaven 
or  on  earth,  and  nothing  can  exist,  but  God,  who 
created  heaven  and  earth,  maintains  and  governs 
it,  has  a  holy  purpose  with  it  all,  in  everything  is 
God  who  disposes  and  ordains,  and  who  in  all 
things  uses  his  people,  which  includes  you,  to 
carry  out  his  counsel.     To  make  an  exception  of 

536 


anything  whatever  with  reference  to  this,  is 
unbelief. 

When,  therefore,  the  Apostle  says:  "Whatso- 
ever ye  do,  do  it  heartily,  as  to  the  Lord,"  he  says 
nothing  but  what  immediately  flows  from  your 
confession  that  you  believe  in  God  the  Father 
Almighty,  the  Creator  of  heaven  and  earth.  For 
then  there  is  nothing  in  your  personal  life,  or  in 
your  family  life,  or  in  your  study  and  work,  or 
in  anything  you  do,  that  would  separate  you  from 
God,  and  that  should  not  rather,  provided  it  is 
rightly  interpreted,  lead  j^ou  to  God.  You  can, 
indeed  not  sin  as  to  the  Lord.  Sin  separates,  breaks 
fellowship  and  throws  you  back  upon  yourself. 
But  for  the  rest,  whether  you  stand  behind  the 
counter  or  work  at  your  trade;  whether  you  sit 
in  your  office;  whether  you  lose  yourself  in  study 
or  devote  yourself  to  art;  whether  you  are  at 
home  or  in  other  company — it  all  can  and  must 
be  one  working,  one  activity  with  strength 
imparted  of  God,  in  things  Divinely  created,  for 
a  purpose  which  God  has  ordained. 

Hence  the  question  is  whether  your  faith,  not 
in  the  mysteries  of  salvation,  no,  but  your  faith 
first  of  all  in  God  as  Creator  of  heaven  and  earth 
floats  with  you  as  a  drop  of  oil  on  the  waters,  or 
whether  it  permeates  all  of  your  life  and  is  applied 
by  you  to  everything.  In  case  of  the  latter  there 
is  no  division  anywhere,  and  the  man  who  plows 
and  sows,  the  carpenter  at  the  bench  or  the  stone- 
layer,  the  mother  who  cares  for  her  children  and 
her  home,  in  brief,  every  man  and  woman,  in  any 

537 


position  of  life  whatsoever,  never  labor  apart 
from  God,  but  always  in  his  creation  and  iii  his 
service. 

Then  to  be  near  unto  God,  the  fellowship  with 
the  Eternal,  the  secret  walk  with  him  who  know- 
eth  the  heart,  is  no  sweet-smelling  savor  by  the 
side  of  life,  but  the  breath  of  life  itself,  spreading 
its  sweet  perfume  upon  your  whole  existence. 
Then  in  everything  you  are  glad,  because  the 
majesty  and  the  grace  of  God  breathes  upon  you 
from  everything  and  in  everything.  Then,  in 
everything,  you  pray,  not  with  the  lips,  but  in 
the  heart,  because,  in  whatsoever  you  do,  you  feel 
your  deep  dependence  upon  his  Almighty  power. 
Then  in  everything  you  give  thanks,  because  all 
trouble  is  outcome  of  his  grace.  And  every 
adversity  is  intended  to  stimulate  you,  with  the 
aid  of  ever  more  grace,  to  greater  exertion  of 
strength.  Then  everything  will  be  done  heartily, 
i.  e.  not  mechanically,  not  slavishly,  not  of  neces- 
sity, but  willingly  and  gladly,  because  in  this  way 
you  are  permitted  to  do  it  in  his  service.  And 
thus  you  attain  that  high  level  of  existence  where 
godliness  and  fulfillment  of  duty  are  one,  because 
whatsoever  you  do,  in  quiet  and  restful  nearness 
unto  God,  you  are  permitted  to  do  as  to  the  Lord. 

99 

"HOW  EXCELLENT  IS  THY  NAME  IN 
ALL  THE  EARTH." 

One   of  the  last  hallelujah  psalms  closes  with 
the   mention   of  the   children   of   Israel,   as   "the 
538 


people  that  is  near  unto  God."  It  says  in  full: 
"He  hath  exalted  the  horn  of  his  people,  the 
praise  of  all  his  saints;  even  of  the  children  of 
Israel,  a  people  near  unto  him"  (Psalm  148:14). 
The  distinction  that  is  here  made  is,  that  not  only 
the  individual  soul  may  find  itself  in  closer  fellow- 
ship, in  more  intimate  communion,  in  more  con- 
stant walk  with  God,  but  also  that  this,  in  a 
much  vaguer  sense,  of  course,  may  be  true  under 
given  circumstances  of  a  large  number  of  persons, 
and  even  of  a  whole  people. 

To  a  certain  extent  this  can  be  said  of  a  rural 
population  in  distinction  from  the  population  of 
cities.  The  story  of  ''the  temple  of  uncarved  wood" 
remains  herewith  under  sentence  of  its  own  un- 
reality. For  in  its  hypocrisy  it  never  was  any- 
thing else  than  the  poetic,  pious  talk  of  those 
who  would  rather  take  a  walk  on  Sunday  than  go 
to  church.  We  mean  the  fact,  which  has  been 
observed  in  almost  every  country,  that  the  rural 
population,  taken  as  a  whole,  has  remained  more 
devoted  to  religion  than  the  great  masses  of  city 
people,  at  least  among  what  are  called  protestant 
that  have  become  estranged  from  all  home  relig- 
ion and  from  public  worship.  It  can  even  be  said 
that  this  serious  phenomenon  increases  in  propor- 
tion to  the  increase  of  city  population. 

This  does  not  mean  to  say  that  in  these  great 
cities  there  is  no  remnant  of  devout  people.  These 
city  people,  indeed,  are  sometimes  very  influential, 
and  in  many  ways  their  piety  is  of  a  higher  type 
than  rural  piety,  especially  in  strength  of  purpose 

539 


and  elasticity.  This  is  the  result  of  greater  friction 
and  of  more  intense  competition.  He  who  in 
such  cities  still  cherished  the  sacred  traditions  of 
the  fathers,  did  so  under  protest.  He  had  to  suffer 
for  it,  and  to  struggle  in  behalf  of  it.  But  he  who 
maintained  himself  in  the  conflict,  came  out  of  it 
better  disciplined,  fortified  and  strengthened,  and 
felt  himself  better  equipped  against  unbelief  and 
indifferentism.  But  apart  from  these  relatively 
always  small  exceptions,  it  can  not  be  denied  that 
in  rural  districts  reverence  for  religion  is  more 
firmly  rooted,  and  that  in  city  life  this  reverence 
wanes;  especially  where  there  are  great  indus- 
tries, much  commerce,  and  much  speculation  at 
the  exchange.  Indeed,  among  factory  owners  and 
hands,  among  merchants  and  oflSce  clerks,  among 
members  of  the  exchange  and  capitalists  there  are 
also  truly  pious  children  of  God,  but  they  are 
white  ravens  among  the  black  flock. 

That  which  co-operated  to  bring  this  about  is 
manifold.  What  with  weather  and  wind,  harvests 
and  failure  ^f  crops,  with  cattle  and  land  plagues, 
people  in  rural  districts  are  far  more  directly  de- 
pendent upon  the  works  of  God  than  people  in 
the  cities.  With  respect  to  industrial  interests. 
and  mechanical  inventions  man  is  the  more  prom- 
inent agent  who  exercises  power.  In  rural  dis- 
tricts temptation  also  is  less  brutally  on  exhibition. 
Evenings  there  are  shorter  and  people  rise  earlier. 
People  know  each  other  more  personally,  which 
makes  the  discipline  of  public  opinion  more  effec- 
tive.    The   membership   of   a   church   is   smaller, 

640 


which  allows  the  supervision  of  the  church  to  be 
more  general.  And  so  there  are  many  causes  that 
co-operate,  but  among  these  the  principal  cause 
always  is:  Life  in  the  country  itself,  and  the 
consequent  influence  of  nature,  of  the  visible  crea- 
tion of  God  which  surrounds  the  countryman. 
From  this  it  can  be  inferred  that  he  who  seeks  to 
be  near  unto  God  loses  a  notable  capacity,  when 
he  does  not  open  eye  and  ear  to  the  impression 
of  the  nearness  of  God,  which  the  visible  creation 
can  impart. 

The  need  of  this  opening  of  eye  and  ear  is 
evident  from  the  large  number  of  city  people  who 
in  summer  go  to  the  country,  but  who  go  only 
for  pleasure  and  fresh  air,  and  return  as  estranged 
from  God  as  when  they  started.  But  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  the  city  man  misses  nature.  Parks  and 
boulevards  offer  some  compensation,  but  the  great 
masses,  especially  working  people,  only  return 
home  at  dark.  The  starry  heavens  truly  also 
glisten  above  our  cities,  but  among  those  who 
walk  the  busy  streets  in  the  evening,  who  lifts 
his  eyes  on  high  to  see  who  has  created  all  these 
things,  who  bringeth  out  their  hosts  by  number, 
and  calleth  them  by  name? 

In  our  villages  nature  is  all  around,  whether  it 
is  desired  or  not.  It  forces  itself  upon  the  inhab- 
itants. In  cities,  on  the  other  hand,  people  are 
shut  off  from  nature  and  only  they  who  seek  it 
above  or  outside  of  the  town  find  it.  In  the  coun- 
try God's  voice  addresses  us  from  within  and  from 

541 


without.  In  the  city  alone  from  within,  while  the 
human  voice  makes  itself  loudly  heard  in  all  sorts 
of  ways  to  hush  the  voice  of  the  Lord,  even  in 
his  starry  heaven  and  in  his  thunder.  They  who 
are  advanced  in  years,  and  whose  life's  task  is 
done,  not  infrequently  seek  the  country  again  to 
make  good  what  they  have  lost.  In  most  cases, 
however,  susceptibility  to  understand  nature  has 
been  lost,  and  so  they  remain  isolated  from  their 
surroundings. 

Now,  compare  this  with  Scripture.  Man  has  his 
origin  in  a  glorious  paradise,  where  all  nature 
addresses  him  in  a  pure  language  of  God.  Even 
after  the  fall  so  much  excellence  remains  in 
broken  nature  that  the  invisible  things  of  God 
are  understood  from  created  things,  both  hi? 
eternal  power  and  divinity  (Romans  1:20).  "The 
heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  firma- 
ment showeth  his  handiwork.  Day  unto  day 
abundantly  uttereth  speech,  and  night  unto  night 
sheweth  knowledge.  There  is  no  people  or  land, 
where  this  voice  of  God  is  not  heard"  (Psalm  19). 
Excellent  is  his  name  in  all  the  earth.  The  voice 
of  the  Lord  is  upon  the  waters.  The  God  of  glory 
thundereth.  The  voice  of  the  Lord  is  powerful. 
The  voice  of  the  Lord  is  full  of  majesty.  The 
voice  of  the  Lord  breaketh  the  cedars,  even  the 
cedars  of  Lebanon  (Psalms  29).  And  so  it  goea  on 
through  all  the  Psalms.  Read  and  read  again 
Psalm  104.  And  at  the  end  of  the  Psalter  we 
have  a  striking  description  of  nature  in  Psalms 
147  and  148.     And  even  before  the  Book  of  the 

542 


Psalms  is  Job  with  his  wondrous  descriptions  of 
the  Behemoth,  the  horse  and  the  pleiadea.  It  is 
all  one  mighty  call  in  the  greatness  and  beauty 
of  nature  to  behold  the  glory  of  God. 

And  when  in  Scripture  we  come  to  the  preach- 
ing of  the  Son  of  Man,  it  is  again  the  self-same 
call:  'Consider  the  lilies  of  the  field,  how  they 
grow!"  "Behold  the  fowls  of  the  air;"  it  is  light 
thrown  upon  the  mysteries  of  the  Kingdom  bor- 
rowed from  what  is  seen  in  the  sower  and  the 
shepherds;  and  at  the  close  of  his  ministry  there 
is  the  touching  comparison  of  Jerusalem  with  the 
hen  that  gathers  her  chickens  under  her  wings. 
The  glow  of  nature  scintillates  throughout  all  of 
Revelation.  God's  ancient  people  was  a  rural  peo- 
ple. The  holy  land,  which  God  had  appointed  for 
his  people,  was  then,  though  no  longer  now,  a 
fertile  field  of  unequalled  beauty.  The  new  earth 
under  the  new  heaven  shall  be  a  return  of  para- 
dise. The  wilderness  shall  blossom  as  the  rose. 
And  when  our  times  are  familiar  with  the  glori- 
fication of  the  artist-painter,  because  of  the  beau- 
tiful scenes  which,  with  depths  of  color  and  life, 
he  works  before  our  eyes — what  dullness  of  the 
spiritual  eye  it  betrays  when  at  the  same  time  it 
is  blind  to  the  thousand-fold  more  enchanting 
glory  in  the  handiwork  of  our  God,  who  is  the 
chief  est  artist  of  all. 

It  affects  one  strangely,  therefore,  to  find  so 
little,  if  any,  appreciation  of  the  beautiful  in 
nature  among  Christian  people.  Undoubtedly  the 
voice  of  the  herald  of  Peace  far  excels  the  many 

543 


voices  of  nature.  "In  his  temple,"  says  the 
Psalmist,  after  having  described  the  power  of  God 
in  nature,  "in  his  temple  doth  everj'one  speak  of 
his  glory"  (Psalm  29:9).  And  in  the  Hallelujah 
song  of  Psalm  147  it  is  said  that  Israel  is  highly 
exalted  above  primitive  peoples,  because  the  Lord 
hath  made  known  his  word  unto  Jacob.  And  in 
closing  it  declares:  "He  hath  not  dealt  so  with 
any  nation:  Neither  have  the  heathen  knowl- 
edge of  his  laws."  In  the  congregation  of  believers, 
where  the  word  is  rightly  proclaimed,  there  is  a 
spiritual  beauty  which  far  outshines  the  beauty 
of  nature. 

But  shall  we  be  onesided  on  this  account  and 
allow  the  half  to  be  lost?  According  to  our  con- 
fession God  is  known  in  two  ways.  Surely  from 
his  Word,  but  also  from  the  creatures,  which  are 
letters  in  the  book  of  creation,  to  make  us  know 
the  might  and  majesty  of  God.  Christian  con- 
fer nces,  devotional  meetings,  devotional  books, 
are  all  very  excellent,  but  must  on  this  account 
the  great  book  of  creation  remain  closed  to  the 
eye  of  the  soul?  It  all  goes  for  the  sake  of 
impressions,  impressions  oq  the  collodion-plate  of 
the  heart.  For  the  sake  of  impressions  which  far 
excel  the  impressions  of  daily  life,  and  those  which 
we  receive  from  men. 

We  may  not,  and  will  not,  live  under  the 
impression  that  the  Divine  can  ever  be  reduced  to 
the  measure  of  the  human.  We  will  not  lower  and 
lessen  God  after  our  dimensions,  but  lift  up  our- 
selves to  the  measure  of  the  majesty  of  God.   Not 

544 


a  God  after  our  image,  but  we  created  after  the 
image  of  God.     And  this  you  will  not  get  from 
■  books,  and  not  from  travel,  and  not  from  acquaint- 
.  ance  with  men.    For  all  this  only  confines  you  to 
the  limit  and  to  the  measure  of  our  small  propor- 
tions, and  is  altogether  different  from  a  rising  or 
a  setting  of  God's  sun;   altogether  different  from 
the  flash  of  lightning  or  from  the  thunder  that 
rolls  in  the  clouds;  altogether  different  from  the 
I  glory    of   the   starry   skies   that    arch   themselves 
I  above   you;    altogether  different   from   the   great 
i  forests,  or  the  lion  that  roars  for  prey. 
I      In   nature   we   have    the   sublime,   and   in    the 
i  sublime  we  have  the  Divine  utterance  of  what  is 
\  superlatively  beautiful  and  glorious.    The  high  and 
i  the  lofty:    even  a   majesty  which  infinitely   sur- 
:  passed  the  small  dimensions  of  human  economy 
and  of  human  A.orks,  so  that  you  may  know  and 
understand  that  you  are  not  in  touch  with  the 
bungling   works    of   man,   but   with    the    glorious, 
sublime  art  of  the  Creator  of  heaven  and  of  earth. 
Truly,  the  beautiful  in  nature  can  not  disclose  to 
you  the  way  of  salvation,  and  its  spiritual  mys- 
teries.    For  this  purpose  God  in  compassion  has 
given  you  his  Gospel.     But  what  the  outshining 
of  God's  majesty  and  divinity  in  nature  effects  is: 
that  it  binds  and  expands  and  elevates  all  your 
ideas  to  an  higher  sphere  than  what  your  sight 
,  can  give  you;  that  it  lifts  you  up  from  the  insig- 
nificant-human to  the  Divinely-great;  in  brief:  to 
•  what  is  exalted!     And  that  in  this  way  it  brings 
the  High  and  Lofty  One  nearer  unto  you. 


100 

THOU   TRIEST    MINE   HEART,   THAT    IT 
IS  WITH  THEE." 

Many  causes  can  interrupt  the  secret  walk  with 
God.  The  most  mysterious  to  the  pious  mind  is, 
that  God  withdraws  his  face,  in  order,  by  the 
want  of  it,  to  make  you  thirst  more  strongly  after 
it.  The  most  common  is,  that  earthly  interests 
so  engage  the  attention  and  keep  it  absorbed  that 
the  soul  is  ensnared  by  them.  And  the  most  offen- 
sive to  the  soul  is  that  actual  sin  came  in  the  way, 
which  not  only  broke  your  fellowship  with  God, 
but  continued  to  prevent  the  return  to  the  near- 
ness of  the  Holy  One. 

Actual  sin  alone  has  mention  here.  A  word,  a 
deed,  of  which  you  felt,  when  you  faced  it,  that 
it  would  be  a  sin  to  you,  and  which  you  failed  to 
evade.  A  sinful  tendency,  a  sinful  mood,  especially 
a  sinful  desire,  can  seriously  affect  the  fellowship 
with  God,  but  the  working  of  it  is  different.  For 
on  this  side  of  the  grave  this  sinful  inclination 
will  stay  by  us,  but  provided  it  is  not  cherished, 
this  by  itself  will  not  prevent  the  secret  walk 
with  God.  The  secret  walk  with  God  is  always 
in  Christ,  from  which  it  is  evident  that  we  do  not 
come  to  God  as  one  who  is  holy,  but  as  one  who 
in  himself  is  a  sinner.  But  it  is  different  with  a 
sin  that  has  been  committed.  Then  there  was 
consent,  permission  and  the  doing  of  it.  Then  at 
once  the  light  of  God's  benign  countenance  was 
gone.    Then  on  the  side  of  God  it  become  dark, 

51f> 


and  the  inclination  to  flee  from  God  was  stronger 
than  to  be  near  unto  God. 

We  perceive  this  change  in  our  spiritual  atti- 
tude clearly,  at  once  and  in  the  most  painful  way, 
when  it  was  a  sin  that  tempted  us;  a  sin  which, 
once  committed,  startled  us,  and  for  which  we 
would  give  anything  if  the  stain  of  it  could  imme- 
diately be  removed  from  our  soul.  When,  if  we 
may  say  it  in  an  ordinary  way,  it  was  a  bad  ain. 
For  nothing  shows  our  low  moral  viewpoint  ao 
sadly  as  our  general  ignorance  of  our  minor  daily 
sins,  neglected  duties,  unlovelinesses,  expressions 
of  egotism,  pride  and  vanity;  small  untruths, 
little  dishonesties,  and  much  more  of  the  same 
kind. 

This  is  still  entirely  different  from  what  David 
calls  "secret  faults."  They  are  faults  which  may 
stain  the  garment,  but  so  little  as  to  escape  our 
notice.  This  refers  to  unknown  sins,  and  which 
only  with  later  development  of  soul,  will  be  rec- 
ognized by  us  as  such.  But  we  know  the  sins 
which  we  say  are  "not  so  bad."  We  have  be- 
come accustomed  to  them  and  therefore  they 
have  ceased  to  trouble  us.  Our  soul  no  more 
reacts  on  them.  And  of  this  sort  of  sins  it  is  cer- 
tainly true,  that  they  hinder  the  secret  walk  with 
God,  but  do  not  prevent  it.  They  do  not  break 
what  once  existed.  But  they  affect  the  hidden 
walk  with  God  to  this  extent,  that  it  becomes 
sporadic,  remains  fellowship  from  a  distance,  and 
that  we  fail  of  the  fuller  enjoyment  of  the  same. 

Interruptions  by  sin  in  fellowship  with  God  are 
only  possible  when,  as  a  rule,  you  are  near  unto 

647 


God,  when  you  know  him  in  all  your  ways,  and 
have  been  initiated  into  the  secret  of  salvation, 
and  then  commit  a  sin  which  startles  and  frightens 
you,  and  brings  a  dark  cloud  to  your  sky,  and  you 
are  thrown  back  upon  yourself,  and  you  feel  that 
you  have  no  more  part  in  the  lovely  walk  with 
God. 

In  Psalm  32  David  speaks  of  such  a  break,  and 
frankly  confesses  that  this  condition  was  con- 
tinued because  he  kept  silence.  "When  I  kept 
silence  thy  hand  was  heavy  upon  me  day  and 
night."  But  at  length  he  broke  this  silence,  "I 
said,  I  will  confess  my  transgressions  unto  the 
Lord."  And  when  he  has  done  it,  the  break  is  at 
once  removed.  Now  he  seeks  and  hnds  God 
again,  and  so  he  sings:  "For  this  shall  every  one 
that  IS  godly  pray  unto  thee  in  a  time  when  thou 
mayest  be  found.  Thou  compassest  me  with  joy- 
ful songs  of  deliverance."  Yea,  now  he  meets 
with  God  again,  and  God  does  not  repel  him  nor 
hold  him  back.  But  he  hears  it  sweetly  whispered 
in  his  soul :  "I  will  instruct  thee ;  I  will  guide  thee 
with   mine   eye." 

And  in  this  Davidic  experience  of  soul  lies  the 
only  true  diagnosis,  and  the  only  effective  medi- 
cine. When  we  were  so  weak,  nay  so  wicked,  as 
willingly  and  knowingly  to  commit  a  sin,  the  first 
impression  which  it  made  on  us  was  that  we 
wanted  to  hide  from  God,  that  we  were  afraid  of 
appearing  again  before  his  presence,  and  that  with 
the  bitter  remembrarice  of  our  sin  we  drew  back 
^vithin    ourselves.      Not    from    enmity,    but    from 

548 


fear.  Not  from  lack  of  will,  but  from  shame.  We 
\\ell  knew  that  we  must  get  back  to  God,  but  we 
postponed  it.  We  wanted  to  pray,  but  we  allowed 
time  to  intervene.  We  kept  silent.  And  in  this 
oppressive  silence,  which  so  sorely  weighed  upon 
the  soul,  we  got  farther  and  farther  away  from 
God. 

This  is  the  diagnosis,  i.  e.  the  explanation  of 
the  wound  from  which  at  such  a  moment  the  soul 
bleeds.  The  only  true  medicine  is  immediately  to 
break  your  silence,  seek  solitude,  kneel  down,  and 
without  sparing  yourself  confess  plainly  and  can- 
didly your  sin  before  God,  call  upon  him  for  for- 
giveness, yea,  implore  him  that  he  take  not  his 
Holy  spirit  from  you. 

This  takes  pains.  At  such  a  time  3^ou  must  do 
\-iolence  to  yourself.  You  feel  the  sharpness  of 
God's  anger,  and  back  of  it  you  must  grasp  his 
mercy.  But  the  outcome  of  this  is  always  sur- 
prising. It  is  just  as  David  said.  It  breaks  at 
once  the  ban  which  sin  put  upon  the  heart.  Some- 
thing in  the  soul  gives  way,  and  liberation  follows, 
deliverance,  reconciliation,  and  God  comes  near  in 
faithfulness  as  Jesus  pictured  it  in  the  shepherd 
with  the  lost  sheep.  It  seems  as  though  in  such  a 
moment  God  draws  nearer  than  ever  to  convince 
you  of  his  infinite  compassion. 

Satan  whispered  within :  "Stay  away  .  from 
God,"  but  your  Father  in  heaven  called  out  to 
you:  "No,  come  unto  me,  my  child."  In  this 
approach  of  your  sin-confessing  heart  to  God,  and 
of  God  to  your  soul,  the  interruption  falls  away, 
649 


and  it  is  good  for  you,  unspeakably  good,  to  be 
near  again  unto  God. 

And  what  is  the  secret  of  this  healing  work  of 
the  soul?  Is  it  not  stated  in  Jeremiah's  words: 
"Lord,  thou  knowest  me,  thou  seest  me,  thou  triest 
mine  heart  that  it  is  with  thee"  (Jer.  12:3  Dutch 
version).  That  which  makes  the  utterances  of 
Psalmist  and  prophet  so  striking  is,  that  they 
interpret  all  of  life  within  the  scope  of  battle  for 
or  against  God.  Battle  against  God  on  the  part 
of  Satan.  Battle  against  God  on  the  part  of  un- 
holy, worldly  powers.  Battle  against  God's  holi- 
ness on  the  part  of  every  sin  They  do  not  speak 
the  weak,  cowardly  language  of  a  self-developing 
and  degenerating  moral  life,  but  they  relate  every- 
thing to  God,  as  the  center  of  all  things.  It  is  all 
a  battle  of  sin  and  unrighteousness  against  God, 
and  a  battle  cf  God  against  all  unrighteousness  and 
sin.  It  is  an  age-long  battle,  from  the  days  of 
paradise  on,  which  will  not  cease  until  the  end  of 
the  ages,  when  God  in  Christ  shall  triumph  over 
the  last  enemy.  And  we  are  all  involved  in  this 
conflict,  and  have  our  part  in  it.  When  we  sin, 
it  is  on  the  side  of  Satan  against  God.  When  we 
live  by  faith,  it  is  on  the  side  of  God  against 
Satan. 

This  is  the  interpretation  of  life  as  given  by 
prophets  and  apostles.  And  this  should  be  the 
profound  and  striking  interpretation  of  life  on  the 
part  of  all  God's  children.  And  what  is  a  sin 
which  we  commit?  Even  this:  that  in  an  evil 
moment  we  strengthen  the  forces  of  evil  against 

B60 


God,  and  that  in  co-operation  with  Satan  we 
oppose  God.  And  if  this  be  the  case  what  is  it 
to  make  confession  of  sin,  save  that  so  soon  as 
you  realize  this,  you  at  once  step  out  from  among 
the  ranks  of  Satan  and  return  to  the  battle  lines 
of  God,  imploring  mercy,  that  you  may  be  counted 
worthy  again  to  fight  under  his  banner,  and  again 
to  join  forces  with  him? 

And  now  the  heart  appeals  to  the  omniscience  of 
the  God  of  all  compassions.  Did  you  mean  to 
desert  the  ranks  of  God  and  to  join  the  forces  of 
Satan?  No,  no;  and  once  again,  No.  You  did 
not  mean  to  do  it.  The  thought  of  such  an  evil 
did  not  rise  from  within  yourself.  You  allowed 
yourself  to  be  taken  unawares.  You  slipped  with- 
out realizing  the  dreadful  wickedness  of  your  deed. 
And  now  as  you  perceive  that  this  is  the  sin  that 
you  committed,  you  appeal  to  God.  In  the  in- 
most recess  of  your  heart  there  was  no  desire  to 
desert  God.  And  your  sorrow  of  soul,  your  re- 
morse, your  self-reproach  is,  that  in  the  face  of  it, 
you  have  incurred  the  guilt  of  an  act  of  enmity 
against  God.  And,  therefore,  you  plead  with  him 
and  ask  him,  the  all-knowing,  whether  as  he  tries 
your  heart,  he  does  not  see,  and  does  not  know, 
that  in  its  deepest  depths,  as  against  Satan,  it  is 
with  him. 

101 

"GET  THEE  BEHIND  ME.  SATAN!" 

It    can    not    be    denied,   that    in    former    times, 
especially  in  the  middle  ages,  too  much  was  made 
661 


of  Satan  by  dragging  him,  as  it  were,  rightly  or 
wrongl}',  into  everything.  But  does  it  not  seem 
that  now  we  rather  incline  to  the  other  extreme, 
and  forget,  if  not  deny,  the  very  existence  of  the 
Evil  One?  With  this  denial,  self-conceited  free- 
dom in  matters  of  belief  makes  singular  shifts 
with  the  Gospel  of  our  Lord.  For  then  it  is  said 
that  one  frees  himself  from  the  Old  Testament, 
but  for  this  very  reason  adheres  the  more  closely 
to  the  Gospel.  These  wavering  spirits  are  not 
concerned  with  Moses  but  with  Jesus,  and  fre- 
quently do  not  hesitate  to  criticize  you,  who  hold 
to  the  whole  Scripture,  as  being  too  Old-Testa- 
mentish  and  consequently  only  half  Christian. 

But  see  how  these  people,  who  are  so  loud  in 
their  praises  of  the  Gospel,  themselves  deal  with 
it.  It  is  true  that  Satan  has  almost  no  mention 
in  the  Old  Testament,  and  that  he  is  broadly 
dealt  with  in  the  Gospel.  And  not  this  alone,  but 
in  his  words  as  well  as  in  his  works,  Jesus  con- 
tinually shows  that  he  reckons  with  Satan.  Only 
think  of  the  temptation  in  the  wilderness,  of  the 
constant  casting  out  of  devils,  of  the  great  con- 
flict of  evil  spirits  against  the  Savior,  how  he 
understood  that  all  his  sufferings  and  death  was  a 
struggle  with  this  Prince,  and  how,  without  multi- 
plying instances,  in  the  short  "Our  Father"  he 
added  the  petition  as  a  final  prayer  for  all  his 
people:     "Deliver  us  from  the  Evil." 

All  this,  however,  will  not  do.  The  half  friends 
who  have  put  the  Old  Testament  aside,  in  order 
to  adhere  solely  to  Jesus  and  his  Gospel,  do  not 

552 


hesitate  to  dismiss  this  whole  matter  of  Satan's 
influences,  part  and  parcel,  from  their  Gospel. 
And  with  respect  to  this  it  is  evident  again,  that 
every  such  effort  aims  not  at  forming  the  mind 
and  thought  after  the  Gospel,  but  at  moulding 
the  Gospel  after  their  own  world  of  thought. 

With  respect  to  this  they  who,  while  more  faith- 
ful to  the  Gospel  do  not  deny  but  forget  the  real 
workings  of  Satan,  are  not  free  from  guilt.  Or  is 
it  not  extremely  rare,  that  in  spoken  or  written 
address,  in  psychology  or  in  revelations  of  the 
inner  life,  the  Evil  One  is  reckoned  with  as  a  real 
factor?  It  should  be  carefully  observed,  that  like 
a  thief,  Satan  is  most  pleased  when  his  presence 
and  his  work  are  not  noticed.  In  circles  where 
his  existence  is  denied  or  ridiculed,  his  hands  are 
altogether  free  to  murder  souls  according  to  his 
liking.  But  that  he  can  be  so  strangely  forgotten 
by  those  who  are  more  inclined  to  believe  the 
Gospel,  offers  him  the  finest  chances  to  poison 
souls.  We  may  be  sure  that  in  all  this  denial  and 
in  all  this  forgetting  of  the  actual  existence  of 
Satan,  a  trick  of  Satan  himself  operates.  When 
the  mighty  spirit  of  Christ  moved  the  waves  of 
the  sea  of  life  in  Palestine,  Satan  did  not  succeed 
with  this  for  a  moment,  and  Jesus  compelled  him 
to  show  himself.  But  now  he  succeeds  in  keeping 
himself  in  hiding,  and  unseen  and  unnoticed,  from 
the  ambush,  to  inw^ork  his  character,  and  conse- 
quently with  better  effect. 

How  the  working  of  Satan  proceeds  is  not  re- 
vealed unto  us  in  its  particulars.     We  only  know 

553 


that  the  world  of  men  is  not  the  only  world  of 
conscious  beings.  There  are  myriads  of  other 
spiritual  beings  who  are  known  as  spirits,  angels, 
cherubim,  seraphim,  etc.  It  is  also  certain  that 
this  world  of  spirits  is  not  separated  from  our 
world  of  men,  that  it  exists  by  the  side  of  it, 
and  is  in  all  sorts  of  ways  related  with  it  and 
inworks  upon  it.  And  in  the  second  place  it  is 
additionally  revealed,  that  in  this  world  of  spirits 
the  antithesis  between  holy  and  unholy  has  broken 
out,  even  earlier  than  here  on  earth,  and  that 
from  this  world  of  spirits  it  has  entered  into  our 
world  of  men. 

Hence  there  is  a  certain  alliance  between  good 
spirits  and  good  men,  and  also  a  conspiracy  be- 
tween unholy  spirits  in  the  invisible  world  and 
unholy  spirits  in  the  visible  world.  Joy  among 
good  angels  of  God  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth, 
and  smiles  of  derision  among  evil  spirits  when  the 
effort  to  bring  about  the  fall  of  a  lost  man  meets 
with  success.  It  is  all  one  conflict,  one  warfare, 
one  struggle  with  Christ  as  the  Head  of  holy 
spirits  here  on  earth  and  outside  of  this  world 
against  Satan,  who  is  the  head  of  all  unholy 
spirits  among  men  and  among  devils. 

All  this  is  clearly,  broadly  and  exhaustively  set 
forth  in  the  Gospels,  Epistles  and  in  Revelation. 
We  know  this,  we  believe  this,  and  are  obliged  to 
direct  our  doings  and  non-doings  in  accordance 
with  this.  But  how  these  workings  of  unholy 
spirits  upon  the  world  of  men  proceeds,  is  wrapt 
in  shadows,  so  that  only  some  vague  features  give 

554 


direction  to  our  thoughts.  This  much,  however, 
is  certain,  that  a  threefold  working  severally  de- 
lineates itself  with  sufficient  clearness.  There  are 
workings  from  the  unholy  spirit  world,  which, 
without  definite  attack,  of  themselves  find  a 
vehicle  observable  by  us,  in  public  opinion,  cus- 
toms and  habits  of  life,  and  sinful  human  nature. 
This  is  the  common,  the  everyday  recurring,  the 
ever  continuing  process  which,  as  it  were,  is  in 
the  very  air,  and  of  which  we  all  undergo  a  cer- 
tain influence.  There  is  a  second  working  which 
is  better  defined  when  one  of  the  many  evil  spirits 
makes  itself  master  of  the  spirit  of  a  given  com- 
pany of  people  or  of  the  spirit  of  a  given  indi- 
vidual. Sometimes  several  wicked  spirits  do  this 
at  once.  Bring  to  mind  the  parable  of  Jesus 
(Matt.  12:45).  And,  then,  there  is  a  third,  still 
more  definite,  yea,  even  the  most  definite  working, 
when  Satan  does  not  employ  the  agency  of  one 
of  his  adherents,  but  when  he  prepares  himself 
for  battle,  in  order  to  make  a  leading  assault  in 
the  world  of  spirits. 

In  accordance  with  the  spirit  of  the  times,  and 
of  persons,  the  first,  second  or  third  working  ap- 
pears more  conspicuously  in  the  foreground.  This 
is  seen  in  the  days  of  Jesus.  The  main  dispute 
had  then  to  be  settled,  and  all  three  of  these 
workings  were  strongly  evident.  Satan  himself,  in 
array  against  Jesus  and  his  apostles,  evil  spirits 
arrayed  against  chosen  victims,  and  the  ordinary 
workings  among  the  rank  and  file  of  the  people. 
Escape  there  was  none.  Hiding  would  not  do. 
656 


The  conflict  was  in  the  open.  Altogether  differ- 
ent from  now. 

Even  in  those  days,  however,  Satan  tried  to  hide 
himself.  We  refer  to  this  for  our  instruction. 
Peter,  with  his  sensitive  nature  and  excitable 
mind,  was  used  as  instrument.  "His  5esus  to 
die  on  the  Cross!  Never!"  Love  for  Jesus  was 
the  motive  of  antagonizing  this  dreadful  thought 
in  Jesus.  And  so  we  read:  "Then  Peter  took 
him,  and  began  to  rebuke  him,  saying,  'Have  pity 
on  thyself!  This  shall  not  be  unto  thee!'  "  (Matt. 
16:22).  The  working  of  Satan  was  concealed  in 
this.  Peter  did  not  realize  it.  But  Jesus  saw 
through  it  at  once,  and  in  turn  rebuked  the  dis- 
ciple, who  was  adrift  on  his  feelings  instead  of 
resting  on  the  prophesied  plan  regarding  the  man 
of  sorrows.  "Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan,  for  thou 
savourest  not  the  things  that  be  of  God,  but 
those  that  be  of  man."  Thus  Satan  did  not  gain 
a  hair's  breadth.  Jesus  unmasked  him  at  once. 
Even  with  his  attack  from  the  ambush  he  could 
make  no  advance  against  Jesus. 

But  this  event  is  of  infinite  value  to  us.  It 
shows  that  a  direct  attack  of  Satan  can  lurk  in 
loveliest  forms  of  devotion,  when  apparently  no 
evil  intent  is  at  play,  even  when  we  have  the 
impression  of  walking  very  tender  ways.  This 
does  not  say,  that  Satan  ever  attacked  you  per- 
sonally. It  is  very  possible  that  he  confined  him- 
self in  this  to  the  use  of  one  of  his  subordinate 
spirits.  It  is  even  possible  that  as  yet  he  has 
never  influenced  you  otherwise  than  by  his  gen- 

556 


eral  workings  in  the  spiritual  atmosphere.  But 
the  incident  with  Peter  shows  that  you  might  be 
mistaken.  That  there  might  have  been  an  attack 
of  Satan  when  you  did  not  in  the  least  suspect 
it.  And  in  any  case,  that  the  daily  prayer: 
'"Deliver  us  from  the  Evil!"  is  no  superfluous 
wealth  for  anyone  of  us. 

Thinking  of  a  temptation  that  was  endured, 
the  question  sometimes  rises  long  afterward, 
entirely  objectively:  Was  not  this  a  direct  attack 
of  Satan  on  my  heart,  and  was  it  not  God  who 
delivered  and  saved  and  preserved  me?  It  is  not 
always  in  the  temptation  to  some  particular  great 
sin.  See  it  in  the  case  of  St.  Peter.  He  deemed 
rather  that  he  was  doing  good.  But  this  is  cer- 
tain, that  the  greatest  obstacle  in  the  way  of  the 
world  of  evil  spirits  is  your  seeking  and  striving 
to  be  near  unto  God,  to  live  in  his  secret  fellow- 
ship, to  choose  your  path  in  life  and  to  follow  it 
unto  the  end,  in  conscious  communion  with  God. 

And  for  you,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  no 
safer  stronghold  in  which  to  hide  and  safeguard 
yourself  against  these  unholy  influences  than  in 
being  much  in  close  nearness  unto  God.  For  this 
reason  Satan  is  ever  on  the  alert  to  interrupt  this 
fellowship  with  God  in  your  heart.  That  you 
seriously  seek  this  hidden  walk  with  God,  is 
reason  enough  for  Satan  to  venture  an  attack  on 
you  in  a  particular  way,  by  no  means  always  to 
allure  you  into  a  great  sin,  but  very  frequently,  as 
in  the  case  of  Peter,  by  imparting  unto  you  divert- 
ing workings  of  the  affections. 
657 


Be,  therefore,  on  your  guard.  As  soon  as  you 
become  aware  of  spiritual  coolness,  as  soon  as  you 
perceive  that  this,  that  or  the  other  thing  renders 
it  difficult  or  prevents  you  from  being,  and  con- 
tinuing, near  unto  God,  then  consider  what  in- 
fluences you  are  becoming  subject  to,  what  un- 
noticed inworkings  take  place  in  your  soul.  Shake 
yourself  free  from  them  all.  And  do  not  rest 
until  you  have  found  your  hiding  place  close  by 
the  heart  of  God.  Hesitation,  procrastination  will 
not  do.  Jesus  broke  the  spell  immediately,  and 
at  once  repulsed  Peter  with  the  words:  "Get  thee 
behind  me,  Satan!"  Brief,  forceful  and  aggressive! 
Thus  only  the  snare  breaks,  and  you  can  escape. 

102 

"OH,  THAT  THOU  WOULDEST  REND 
THE  HEAVENS." 

Ascension  day  is  a  Divine  memorial  day.  It  is 
the  glorious  memorial  day  of  our  Savior.  The 
work  of  redemption  which  was  to  be  accomplished 
on  earth  was  now  finished.  Not  only  his  bearing 
of  the  form  of  a  servant;  not  only  the  way  of  the 
man  of  sorrows;  not  only  entering  in  upon  eternal 
death,  but  also  the  sojourn  of  forty  more  days  on 
earth,  in  order  to  consecrate  his  apostles  to  the 
holy,  gigantic  task,  which  awaited  them  from 
now  on. 

These  forty  days  again  were  a  sacrifice  of  love 
brought  by  Jesus.  The  glory  of  heaven  allured 
him.  The  place  at  the  right  hand  of  God  called 
658 


and  wooed  him.  The  crown  awaited  him.  But 
yet  he  tarried.  He  still  remained  in  the  sphere 
of  this  world.  Not  because  it  attracted  him.  On 
the  contrary,  between  the  risen  Savior  and  the 
world,  which  was  still  submerged  in  misery,  every 
tie  of  connection  was  severed.  With  respect  to  this 
world  he  had  ceased  to  dwell  in  its  midst.  He  had 
died  unto  this  world,  and  his  resurrection  had  not 
restored  him  unto  it,  but  only  to  the  circle  of  his 
saints.  And  so  there  was  something  anti-natural 
for  him  in  this  forty  days  tarrying  on  earth.  He 
no  longer  belonged  to  it.  He  had  become  estranged 
from  it  and  it  from  him.  Even  though  he  still 
tarried  in  it,  the  world  would  see  him  no  more. 
He  would  still  be  in  it,  but  out  of  all  connection 
with  it,  no  longer  belonging  to  it,  but  to  an 
higher  sphere,  into  which  he  had  actually  entered 
by  his  resurrection. 

But  Jesus  loved  his  disciples.  The  touching 
parting  wuth  them  in  Gethsemane,  the  parting 
with  Peter  in  the  court  room,  the  parting  with 
John  on  Golgotha,  could  not  be  final.  Not  the 
world,  but  they  must  see  him  after  his  resurrec- 
tion. They  must  be  initiated  into  their  new  rela- 
tion to  their  Lord.  Regenerated  in  his  resurrec- 
tion itself  they  must  receive  the  apostolic  anoint- 
ing. They  must  be  prepared  for  the  transition 
into  the  new  relation,  when  they  would  be  alone 
on  earth  and  their  Master  in  heaven.  And  for 
this  purpose  Jesus  had  brought  this  last  sacrifice, 
that  he  did  not  ascend  to  heaven  immediately 
after  his  resurrection,  but  only  weeks  afterward, 
669 


and  that  for  those  many  days  he  forewent  the 
glory  which  awaited  him  on  God's  throne. 

But  this  could  not  last.  The  end  must  follow. 
It  was  an  holy  pause  in  his  glorification,  entered 
upon  from  love,  but  which  of  necessity  had  to  be 
as  short  as  possible.  It  could  not,  and  was  not, 
permitted  to  be  a  continuous  intercourse  with  his 
own.  That  would  not  have  answered  his  purpose. 
It  would  not  have  accustomed  them  to  the  parting 
that  was  to  follow.  And  therefore  there  was  noth- 
ing but  an  occasional  appearance  in  order  to  with- 
draw himself  again.  At  first  more  frequently,  then 
more  rarely,  in  order  presently  at  Damascus  and 
on  Patmos  to  reveal  himself  but  for  a  fleeting 
moment.  In  between  these  lies  the  final  parting. 
The  last  meeting  on  the  Mount  of  Olives,  with 
Gethsemane  at  its  foot,  Jerusalem  stretching  itself 
behind  it,  and  back  of  Jerusalem  Golgotha  and 
the  cave  from  whence  he  rose.  Jesus  had  given 
them  his  last  command.  The  moment  of  parting 
was  at  hand.  And  then  from  the  top  of  the  Mount 
of  Olives  he  lifted  himself  from  their  midst,  and 
ascended  so  that  they  saw  it,  higher  and  ever 
higher,  until  a  cloud  received  him  out  of  their 
sight,  and  angels  from  the  spheres  of  light  came 
down,  who  gave  them  the  last  word  of  comfort: 
"He  is  gone  away  from  you,  once  to  return.  Once 
the  whole  world  shall  be  his." 

Where  those  heavens  are,  whither  Jesus  went, 
remains  a  mystery  to  us.  We  look  for  them  above, 
and  all  Scripture  tells  us,  and  our  own  heart 
returns  an  echo  to  it,  that  the  heaven  of  glory 
must  arch  itself  above  us.    It  is  an  increated  need 

560 


of  our  soul  to  look  for  God's  throne  not  in  our 
proximity,  nor  yet  underneath,  but  above  us.  The 
heavens  are  God's  throne  and  the  earth  is  his 
footstool.  We  look  up  to  the  heavens,  from  whence 
light  comes  to  us,  where  God's  stars  twinkle  in 
the  firmament,  from  whence  rain  descends  to  us 
and  waters  the  earth  and  spreads  blessing  all 
around  us.  But  dimensions  here  do  not  count. 
The  heavens  of  our  God  are  not  of  our  materiality, 
they  do  not  count  with  our  distances,  they  are 
not  comprised  in  the  measure  of  the  finite.  Once 
they  will  open  themselves  to  us  from  a  direction 
where  we  did  not  expect  it.  They  will  not  be 
where  we  surmised  it.  But  in  unknowTi  glory 
they  will  open  their  gates  to  us.  And  into  this 
glory,  when  he  ascended,  Jesus  has  entered. 

"Oh  that  thou  wouldest  rend  the  heavens!"  ex- 
claimed Isaiah  (64:1)  in  great  distress  of  soul.  For, 
taken  in  its  deepest  sense,  our  niisery  consisted  in 
the  fact,  that  by  its  sinful  degeneracy  our  world 
was  shut  off  from  the  heaven  of  our  God.  The 
holy  above  and  the  unholy  round  about  us  and 
in  our  own  heart.  And  then  there  was  every  time 
a  looking  up  to  heaven  above  which  seemed  like 
brass,  and  whose  closed  gates  and  windows  scarcely 
allowed  our  prayers  to  pass  through.  We  were 
disposed  to  that  heaven.  We  were  designed  for 
it.  Only  a  life  in  communion  with  that  heaven 
could  impart  the  Divinely  intended  lustre  to  our 
existence  here  on  earth.  We  were  not  able  to 
climb  up  to  those  heavens,  in  order  to  unlock 
their  gates.  All  we  could  do  was  to  look  up  to 
561 


that  heaven,  stare  at  it,  and  call  to  it  and  sup- 
plicate, that  our  God,  or  he  who  alone  could  do 
it,  would  rend  those  heavens,  and  afford  us  access 
again  to  them. 

And  this  prayer  has  been  answered  in  Chriat. 
First  in  that  he  descended  from  heaven,  and  then 
in  that  he  ascended  thither  again.    By  the  latter 
far  more  strongly  than  by  the  former.    For,  surely, 
when  Jesus  was   on  earth,   there   was  always   an 
opened   heaven   above   him,   and   angels    of   God 
ascended  and  descended  above  the  Son  of  Man. 
But  only  by  Jesus'  ascension  has  communion  be- 
tween  heaven  and   earth   been  established   on  a 
broad     scale,     durably     and     permanently.     He 
ascended,  not  as  he  descended,  but  he  carried  up 
our  human  nature  in  himself.     He  came   to   us 
from  heaven  as  the  Son  of  God,  but  as  the  Son 
of  Man  he  returned  into  heaven.    His  ascension  is 
no  break  of  fellowship  with  his  own,  but  rather 
an  anchoring  forevermore  of  the  tie  which  binds 
him  to  his  saints  on  earth.    This  fellowship  is  even 
wonderfully  mutual.     He  our  Head,  und  in  him 
our  life  hidden  with  God,  but  on  the  other  hand, 
he,  our  Savior,  taking  up  his  abode  in  the  hearts 
of    his    own    and    staying    near    them    with    his 
majesty,  his  grace  and  with  his  spirit.     And  now 
there  is  not  a  moment  more  of  interruption,  far 
less    of   a   breaking    of    the    tie    which    binds    our 
earth  to  heaven,  but  in  the  sacred  mj'ster^^  we 
have  an  ever  continuing,  living,  holy  outpouring 
of  light  and  brightness,  of  power  and  might  from 
on  high,  and  by  the  side  of  this,  in  an  equally 


sacred  mystery,  a  restless  ascent  of  our  faith,  our 
love  and  our  hope  up  to  the  throne  of  glory. 

By  his  ascent  up  to  heaven  Jesus  has  not  be- 
come farther  removed  from  us,  but  he  has  come 
nearer  by.  What  now  vibrates  and  lives  and 
operates  is  fellowship  between  the  King  of  glory 
and  his  saints  on  earth,  no  longer  confined  to  the 
upper  room,  no  more  limited  to  a  mountain  in 
Galilee,  but  beaming  forth  throughout  the  whole 
world,  wherever  there  are  souls  which  he  redeemed 
and  saved  and  who,  in  supplication,  go  out  to  him. 

It  is  now  an  invisible,  unobservable,  but  a  force- 
ful and  systematic  operative  Divine  regiment 
which  Christ  as  our  Head  makes  valid  in  all  the 
earth.  In  the  wilderness  Satan  showed  Jesus  the 
kingdom  of  this  world  and  mirrored  to  him  a 
diabolic  authority  over  them  all.  Jesus  refused 
this,  and  for  what  he  then  refused  he  now  received 
as  crown  upon  his  work  of  Redemption  the  spirit- 
ual and  Divine  government  over  all  peoples  and 
nations.  Thus  he  perfects  over  all  this  world, 
wonderfully  and  majestically,  the  gradual  prepara- 
tion of  spiritual  conditions  which  will  once  bring 
about  the  consummation,  in  order  that  then  he 
may  establish  his  eternal  kingdom,  in  all  its  com- 
pleteness, in  this  selfsame  world,  from  which  he 
ascended. 

Thus  have  the  heavens  been  rent,  thus  have  the 
windows  and  gates  of  heaven  been  opened,  never 
to  be  closed  again,  nor  even  to  be  veiled.  He  who 
with  his  prayers  now  stands  before  a  heaven  of 
brass,  has  no  one  to  blame  but  his  own  unbelief 

563 


and  lack  of  spirituality.  But  for  him,  for  her. 
who  believes,  the  heavens  are  opened,  and  from 
thence  pours  forth  into  the  darkness  of  this  world 
and  into  the  darkness  of  our  own  heart,  a  soft, 
blessed  glow  of  light,  love  and  Ufe.  And  the  soul 
that  is  cherished  thereby,  has  already  now  "walks 
above"  among  the  saints  of  God,  and  with  the 
smile  of  joy  on  his  face,  he  sees  the  approach  of 
the  hour  when,  having  finished  his  earthly  course, 
he,  too,  shall  enter  upon  the  fulness  of  that  glory. 
The  early  Christians  realized  this,  and  therefore, 
clothed  in  white  garments,  they  carried  out  their 
dead  who  had  fallen  asleep  in  Jesus  amid  songs 
of  joy.  We,  at  a  greater  distance  from  the  Mount 
of  Olives,  follow  other  customs,  only,  let  it  never 
be  with  less  fixedness  of  hope  in  the  heart  in  be- 
half of  our  beloved  ones  who  have  fallen  asleep. 

103 

"WITH  ALL  SAINTS." 

In  your  most  pious  frame  of  mind,  and  urgent 
longing  of  soul  to  be  near  unto  God  you  may  not 
claim  the  Lord  your  God  for  yourself  alone.  This 
is  a  sinful  abuse  which  is  readily  committed  by 
passionate  devotion.  In  the  "Our  Father"  a 
plural  is  used,  where  we,  when  left  to  our  own 
impulse,  would  readily  use  a  singular.  It  does  not 
say:  "My  Father,"  but  "Our  Father,"  who  art  in 
heaven,  and  the  plural  "us"  is  used  in  the  Lord's 
prayer  to  the  end.  This  does  not  mean  that  we 
may  not  use  the  singular  in  our  devotions.  In 
664 


the  "Eli,  Eli,  Lama  Sabachthani"  Jesus  quoted 
Psalm  22  and  of  itself  there  could  be  no  plural  used 
whenever  the  Son  of  God  practiced  fellowship 
with  the  Father.  Jesus  as  such  stood  entirely 
alone,  in  holy  isolation.  And  though  it  may  not 
be  in  that  exalted  and  peculiar  sense,  in  which  it 
was  the  case  with  Jesus,  yet  with  us  also  condi- 
tions arise  and  experiences  of  soul,  which  isolate 
us,  and  of  which  at  least  we  do  not  know  that 
we  have  them  in  common  with  others.  Then  it  is 
a  personal  condition,  from  which  we  call  upon 
God,  and  it  is  natural  that  we  use  the  singular 
and  say:     *'My  God"  and  "my  Father." 

This,  however,  should  not  be  the  rule,  it  should 
not  be  the  common  tenor  of  our  prayer.  Of  itself 
this  is  not  so  when  we  pray  together.  But  it 
must  not  be  so  in  our  quiet,  solitary  and  personal 
prayer.  In  case  of  common  need,  even  when  we 
pray  alone,  we  feel  instinctively  that  this  is  not 
permissible.  In  times  of  shipwreck  this  has  spon- 
taneously shown  itself.  If  among  the  more  than 
one  thousand  miners  who  perished  at  Courrieres, 
there  were  those  in  that  dreadful  subteranean  hell 
who  knew  how  to  pray,  it  probably  was  not 
thought  otherw^ise.  And  when  recently  Vesuvius 
vomited  fire  and  sulphur,  they  who  were  devout 
did  not  remain  at  home  to  pray  each  by  himself, 
but  all  gathered  together  for  prayer  in  the  churches. 

Such  is  the  case  with  all  men  before  God,  in 
the  common  need  of  sin  and  misery.  This  com- 
mon need  may  assume  a  special  form  in  each 
individual  case.    Sin  may  bear  a  special  character 

565 


and  the  misery  of  life  may  make  itself  known  in 
a  particular  way  to  each  of  us.  This,  however, 
does  not  take  away  the  fact  that  all  sin  and  misery 
flows  from  one  common  source,  that  it  makes  us 
sharers  of  a  common  lot,  and  that  it  should  move 
us  unitedly  to  call  upon  God  for  redemption  and 
deliverance. 

If  such  is  the  case  with  our  supplication  from 
the  midst  of  danger,  it  is  the  same  with  respect 
to  our  thanksgiving  for  grace  received  and  with 
our  prayer  for  safe-keeping  by  this  grace.  Every 
one's  salvation  and  deliverance  is  from  Bethlehem 
and  Golgotha  and  the  opened  grave.  One  and 
the  selfsame  Satan  seeks  to  work  harm  into  the 
grace  of  all,  and  the  safe-keeping  of  all  by  the 
grace  of  God  proceeds  from  the  inworking  in  our 
hearts  of  the  same  Holy  Spirit  and  from  the  same 
glorious  government  of  Christ  as  our  King.  If 
thus  in  sin  and  misery  we  share  a  common  lot 
with  all  mankind,  in  the  sphere  of  grace  we  share 
a  common  lot  with  all  those  whom  the  Father 
has  given  to  Christ.  Our  spiritual  attitude  in 
holy  things  therefore  neither  can  nor  should  be 
any  other  save  that  we  know  and  feel  that  we 
approach  God  "with  all  saints"  and  that  with  all 
the  saints  together  we  stand  before  our  God. 

Consider  that  the  Apostle  says:  "With  all 
saints"  (Eph.  3:18).  Some  godly  people  well 
know  fellowship  with  the  godly  in  their  own  town, 
but  they  forget  that  the  godly  and  the  saints  are 
not  the  same,  and  this  they  leave  out  of  account. 
This  does  not  say  that  it  is  not  good  and  excel- 

566 


lent  to  be  daily  in  spiritual  touch  with  such  in 
one's  town,  in  order  to  strengthen  the  faith  and  in 
behalf  of  mutual  edification.  Only,  common  fel- 
lowship with  the  godly  is  altogether  different  from 
the  sense  of  sharing  a  common  lot  "with  all 
saints."  With  "the  saints"  the  Scripture  does  not 
speak  of  subjective,  personal  piety,  but  of  objec- 
tive sanctification  through  and  in  Christ.  'The 
saints"  are  the  redeemed,  they  who  have  been 
drawn  unto  eternal  life.  Not  your  choice,  but  the 
choice  of  God  here  counts.  Not  a  fellowship  with 
those  whom  you  think  are  godly,  but  sharers  in 
a  common  lot  with  those  who  have  been  effec- 
tively called  of  God. 

Thus  the  circle  of  the  saints  is  not  narrow,  not 
provisional,  not  local,  but  it  is  a*  multitude  which 
no  one  can  number,  in  all  parts  of  the  world, 
here  and  up  yonder,  from  the  daj^s  of  Paradise 
until  now,  and  from  now  on  to  all  eternity.  As 
we  sing  in  the  Te  Deum:  "The  holy  church 
throughout  all  the  world  doth  acknowledge  thee." 

Hence,  "with  all  saints"  means  fellowship  with 
all  those  who  have  been  and  will  be  redeemed  by 
the  blood  of  Christ  in  your  immediate  surround- 
ings, in  your^,  whole  land,  in  your  church,  in  other 
churches,  in  other  lands,  both  in  the  present,  in 
the  past  and  in  the  future.  It  is  the  whole  "body 
of  Christ"  with  all  its  members,  not  one  excepted. 
With  the  patriarchs  and  prophets,  the  apostles 
and  martyrs  from  of  old,  with  your  redeemed  rela- 
tives and  family  members  and  acquaintances,  who 
have  gone  before  into  eternity,  with  those  who 

•      567 


still  continue  with  you,  with  those  who  grow  up 
frcm  among  the  children  of  the  church,  and  those 
who  are  still  hidden  in  the  seed  of  the  church,  or 
who  are  brought  into  the  church  from  without. 
No  one  whom  God  has  included,  may  we  exclude. 
And  that  this  refers  not  merely  to  your  salvation, 
but  also  to  your  fellowship  with  the  Triune  God, 
and  to  your  being  near  unto  God,  clearly  appears 
from  what  the  apostle  writes  so  enthusiastically, 
that  "with  all  saints"  ye  may  be  able  to  com- 
prehend what  is  the  breadth,  and  length,  and 
depth  and  height  in  the  mystery  of  the  grace  of 
God. 

This  exposition  of  the  sense  of  your  sacred  fel- 
lowship is  deeply  significant  with  respect  to  prac- 
tical ends.  When  you  accustom  yourself  to  re- 
duce the  multitude,  which  no  one  can  number,  to 
the  few  Christian  people  whom  you  personally 
know  as  members  of  your  own  church,  your  sacred 
horizon  becomes  very  small  and  naiTOw.  Then 
the  people  of  God  slink  away  to  a  few  hundreds, 
and  all  the  rest  of  the  world  appears  to  you  like 
lost  masses.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  you  think  of 
the  wide  circle  of  all  God's  saints,  those  at  hand 
and  those  afar  off,  of  the  present  and  of  the  past, 
of  those  on  earth  and  of  those  in  heaven,  and  of 
those  who  are  yet  to  be  bom,  then  all  the  saints 
of  the  old  Covenant  at  once  come  nearer,  then 
there  is  life  in  fellowship  with  apostles  and 
martyrs,  then  there  is  an  innumerable  multitude 
of  brothers  and  sisters  above,  and  from  the  rising 
generation  and  from  those  that  will  come  after 
668 


them,  we  look  for  a  continuous  increase  of  the 
body  of  Christ. 

Then  discouragement  and  depression  give  place 
to  a  feeling  of  triumph  and  of  endless  glory. 
Your  case  then  stands  no  more  alone  and  by  it- 
self, but  thousands  have  shared  it  with  you,  and 
still  other  thousands  have  been  far  worse  con- 
ditioned than  you,  who  nevertheless  have  entered 
upon  eternal  life.  You  experience  also  the  glor- 
ious effect  of  the  magnitude  of  the  work  of  grace. 
You  do  not  belong  to  an  insignificant,  forgotten 
society,  but  to  a  multitude  without  end,  a  vast 
company  which  no  one  can  number,  which  now 
already  stands  before  God,  or  is  on  the  way  to 
the  Fatherhouse,  or  presently  is  to  be  born  from 
the  almightiness  of  God.  Then  God  and  the  work 
of  his  grace  assume  proportions  of  infinite  great- 
ness to  the  eye  of  the  soul  Everything  little 
and  circumscribed  falls  away,  and  the  pilgrim 
journey  is  continued,  not  with  sighings  and  with 
complaints,  but  jubilantly  in  the  salvation  of 
God  and  even  here  with  the  standing  of  the  feet 
in  the  gate  of  the  heavenly  Jerusalem. 

And  this  is  the  frame  of  mind  that  prepares 
you  for  the  secret  walk  with  God,  and  causes  you 
to  be  near  unto  God.  As  long  as  it  is  only  a  per- 
sonal dealing  with  God,  as  though  you  together 
with  a  few  other  Christian  souls  sought  a  hiding 
place  with  God,  the  majesty  of  the  work  of  grace 
is  lost  to  you,  and  with  it  the  majesty  of  his 
Divine  Being.  The  straits  of  your  own  soul's 
condition  and  of  the  outward  needs  limit  also  the 
length  and  breadth,  the  height  and  depth  of  the 

569 


majestic  doings  of  God.  Thus  your  own  insig- 
nificance is  readily  transferred  to  the  Eternal. 
But  when  you  feel  that  you  are  a  living  member 
of  the  whole  living  body  of  Christ,  that  you  are 
one  of  the  multitude  that  can  not  be  numbered, 
that  you  are  related  to  all  the  saints  above,  to 
all  God's  saints  in  the  whole  earth,  and  to  all 
the  saints  among  the  children,  and  among  your 
children's  children,  then  the  pinnings  of  the  sacred 
tent  are  put  out  widely,  your  outlook  is  enlarged, 
your  love  is  extended  to  thousands  upon  thou- 
sands, your  faith  is  deepened  and  your  hope 
begins  to  glisten  with  all  the  radiancy  of  glorious 
victory. 

The  heart  of  our  God  is  so  wide  of  conception, 
that  nothing  estranges  you  farther  from  this 
Fatherheart  than  your  owtq  narrow-heartedness. 
In  the  Te  Deum  it  is  sung: 

"The  glorious  company  of  the  apostles  praise 

thee. 
The  noble  army  of  martyrs  praise  thee." 

Sometimes  the  desire  comes  upon  one  that  he 
might  have  lived  in  the  da3^s  of  Isaiah,  and  that 
he  might  have  companied  with  St.  John,  and 
might  have  witnessed  the  heroism  of  martyrs  in 
the  face  of  death.  And  then  one  thinks  that  all 
this  is  lost  in  an  unapproachable  past.  Then,  live 
in  the  sense  of  communion  "with  all  saints,"  and 
they  all  will  come  nearer  to  you.  They  all  are 
your  brothers,  with  whom  you  are  included  in  the 
one  body  of  Christ.  And  the  nearer  you  come 
to  this  company  of  God's  saints  above,  the  nearer 

570 


you  will  feel  yourself  in  the  presence  of  God,  who 
hath  included  you  "with  all  saints"  in  the  self- 
same bundle  of  life. 

104 

"THE  GRACE  OF  OUR  LORD  JESUS  CHRIST, 

AND   THE   LOVE    OF   GOD,   AND   THE 

FELLOWSHIP  OF  THE  HOLY  GHOST 

BE  WITH  YOU  ALL." 

The  apostle  from  whose  hand  the  richest 
epistolary  legacy  has  come  to  us,  was  in  the  habit 
of  opening  and  closing  his  epistles  with  a  bless- 
ing. The  one  he  used  in  opening  was  almost 
always:  "Grace  be  with  you  and  peace  from  God 
our  Father  and  from  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  And 
the  prayer  with  which  he  closed  mostly  read: 
"The  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  be  with  you 
all."  It  was  truly  exceptional,  when  at  the  close 
of  his  second  epistle  to  the  Corinthians  he  so  far 
departed  from  his  usual  way,  that  he  expanded 
his  prayer,  and  said:  "The  grace  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  and  the  love  of  God,  and  the  fellow- 
ship of  the  Holy  Ghost  be  with  you  all."  This 
closing  prayer  is  particularly  noteworthy,  because 
the  church  of  Christ  almost  everywhere  has  used 
it  as  the  apostolic  benediction  at  the  close  of  pub- 
lic worship.  Millions  upon  millions  of  times  these 
sacred  words,  so  rich  of  content  and  so  tender  of 
purport,  have  been  repeated,  after  the  departure 
of  Paul,  and  it  is  for  a  large  part  now  that  con- 
gregations of  believers  return  home  from  the  place 
of  worship  under  the  impression  of  these  words. 
571 


In  this  habit  of  St.  Paul  of  opening  and  closing 
his  epistles  with  a  benediction  one  can  observe 
the  aftermath  of  the  manner  of  the  East,  and  on 
this  ground  take  it  merely  as  a  phrase,  and  merely 
as  a  formula  of  good  breeding,  which  as  such  has 
no  spiritual  significance,  at  least  to  us.  But  is  not 
this  unspeakably  superficial?  Is  it  true  that  from 
of  old,  and  even  to  this  day,  it  is  customary  with 
people  in  the  East,  in  meeting  and  in  taking  leave 
of  one  another,  to  use  fairly  lengthy  formulas  of 
salutation,  and  this  salutation  and  farewell  con- 
sists mostly  of  prayers  for  blessings  from  on  high. 
But  how  can  it  follow  from  this,  that  such  prayers 
are  nothing  but  empty  phrases?  Is  not  through- 
out the  whole  Scripture  the  selfsame  use  in  appli- 
cation? Did  not  our  Lord  himself  appear  to  his 
disciples  with  the  salutation  of  blessing:  ''Peace 
be  unto  you!"  And  again  has  not  this  constant 
use  in  the  apostolic  writings  given  rise  to  the 
adoption  of  this  ancient  custom  as  a  true  integral 
part  in  mutual  Christian  fellowship?  Adopted  not 
merely  in  the  church  of  the  East,  but  transferred 
to  the  church  of  the  West,  and  there  also  conse- 
crated by  the  usage  of  nearly  twenty  centuries? 
And  if,  moreover,  as  for  instance  in  Jacob's  bless- 
ings of  his  sons,  even  prophetic  revelation  has 
employed  this  benediction,  by  which  to  throw  a 
beam  of  light  upon  the  future,  is  it  not  super- 
ficial and  thoughtless,  to  see  in  such  a  prayer  for 
Divine  favor,  nothing  but  words  and  sounds,  and 
to  deny  it  all  real  significance? 

By  the  side  of  blessing  stands  the  curse,  and 
this  also  in  Scripture  is  deeply  significant.    Not  in 

572 


every  case.  Not  the  curse  of  hated  and  anger. 
Not  base  meanness,  which  uses  the  curse  as  a 
poisoned  weapon  to  wound.  But  the  curse  of  him 
who  is  authorized  to  pronounce  it,  the  curse  of  a 
father,  or  of  a  mother,  or  of  one  who  is  clothed 
with  spiritual  authority.  Such  a  curse  was  vaHd 
as  spoken  under  supreme  responsibility,  under 
inspiration  from  above.  And  such  a  curse  came 
true.  And  where  by  the  side  of  the  curse  there 
stands  an  equally  sharply  outlined  address  of 
blessing,  which  also  derives  its  words  and  signifi- 
cance from  the  person,  from  the  position  and  the 
occasion  whereby  and  under  which  it  took  place, 
it  is  evident,  that  in  this  most  noteworthy  phe- 
nomenon of  blessing  and  of  curse,  there  hides  a 
spiritual  utterance  for  which  in  our  Western  lands 
and  in  our  unspiritual  times  appreciation  and  re- 
ceptivity have  all  too  far  been  lost.  Of  the  curse 
there  is  almost  nothing  left  among  us,  save  the 
blasphemous  language  of  profane  persons  who 
abuse  the  holy  name  of  the  Lord  as  expletive  and 
as  an  expression  of  anger.  And  of  the  prayer  of 
blessing  little  else  remains  than  good  wishes  at 
New  Year,  at  a  birthday,  or  at  the  solemnizing 
of  marriage. 

But  in  this  mighty  difference  between  a  wish 
and  the  ancient  address  of  blessing  the  weakened 
and  abated  character-trait  of  our  utterance  of  life 
delineates  itself.  Even  upon  the  deathbed  little 
more  is  heard  of  such  blessing  of  one's  children. 
At  present  the  only  particular  of  a  death  that  is 
mentioned  is,  that  the  patient  passed  away  quietly 

573 


and  calmly,  i.  e.  without  any  perceptible  death 
struggle.    In  most  cases  nothing  more  is  heard. 

In  the  face  of  all  this  the  church  usage  has 
stood  firm,  and  the  congregation  of  God  gathers 
in  the  sanctuary  with  the  holy  salutation  and  re- 
turns homeward  with  the  address  of  blessing  from 
the  Lord.  For  this  closing  benediction  the  con- 
gregation even  stands,  or  kneels,  and  reverently 
bows  the  head,  and  in  quiet  seriousness  listens  to 
the  words  of  blessing,  presently  closed  with  the 
Amen.  This  is  most  encouraging,  and  the  minister 
of  the  Word  will  do  well  to  heighten  this  last  act 
of  dismissal  by  restful,  calm  and  solemn  tone. 
The  preceding  utterance  of  the  words:  "And 
now,  receive  the  blessing  of  the  Lord,"  is  an 
introduction  which  tunes  the  heart  and  mind  and 
consecrates  and  exalts.  For  what  else  utters  itself 
in  this  salutation  and  final  benediction  than  the 
glorious  perception  that  the  church  of  the  living 
God  stands  in  living  contact  with  an  higher  order 
of  things  from  what  this  world  offers,  and  with 
him  who  has  founded  his  throne  in  it.  He  who 
stands  in  the  faith  knows  that  he  lives  in  a  two- 
fold world.  In  the  common  world  together  with 
unbelievers,  and  in  the  higher  world  with  the 
saints  around  God's  throne,  with  the  good  angels, 
with  his  Savior  and  King,  and  in  Christ  with  his 
Father  and  his  God. 

These  two  worlds  are  dove-tailed  into  one 
another.  From  the  higher  order,  grace,  peace  and 
life,  power  and  might  have  come  down  into  this 
visible  world ;  they  have  attached  themselves,  and 
now    cleave    in    Christian    lands    to    all    sorts    of 

674 


Christian  ordinances  and  usages.  But  the  real 
meeting  of  these  two  spheres  takes  place  only  in 
believers,  who  still  live  in  this  visible  world,  and 
yet  carry  the  higher  world  in  their  heart;  the 
latter  expressing  itself  in  their  communion  with 
the  Holy  Ghost.  And  as  often  as  this  preponder- 
ance of  the  holy  in  believers  comes  to  a  clear 
expression  through  the  word,  there  is  the  holy 
salutation,  and  presently  at  parting,  the  address  of 
blessing. 

But  this  gives  rise  in  life  to  a  twofold  sphere. 
The  sphere  of  the  unbelieving  world,  and  the 
sphere  that  is  breathed  upon  from  the  higher 
order  of  things.  You  are  at  once  aware  of  this 
by  the  difference  in  your  feelings  as  you  move 
among  children  of  God,  or  among  children  of  the 
world.  In  both  circles,  in  both  spheres  a  dif- 
ferent tone  prevails,  different  language,  different 
love.  With  the  children  of  the  world  the  flower 
of  one's  inner  nature  inclines  to  close  itself  up; 
with  the  children  of  God  this  calix  opens  itself. 
This  is  no  reason  that  one  should  withdraw  him- 
self from  the  visible  world.  On  the  contrary,  God 
has  given  us  here  our  calling  and  our  work.  We 
should  even  be  on  our  guard,  not  to  lift  ourselves 
up  in  spiritual  pride  before  the  children  of  the 
world.  What  better  are  you  than  they,  and  what 
is  your  higher  life  other  than  pure  grace?  You 
should  never  be  unmindful  even  to  give  yourself 
to  this  world,  like  your  Savior  to  serve  it,  to 
bless  it  with  your  love,  and  to  work  for  its  good. 
But  our  spiritual  saving  of  life  is  always  to  be 

575 


fully  aware  of  the  antithesis  between  the  world 
and  the  higher  order  of  things,  and  always  to 
foster  fellowship  with  that  higher  order  of  things, 
to  strengthen  it,  to  feed  it,  and  to  remove  every- 
thing that  might  hinder  or  weaken  it  out  of  the 
way.  This  power  and  ability  does  not  come  to  us 
from  ourselves,  and  not  from  one  another,  but 
solely  and  alone  from  God.  That  which  main- 
tains our  vital  connection  with  that  higher  world 
is  exclusively  the  grace  of  Christ,  the  love  of  God 
and  the  fellowship  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  And  for 
this  reason,  as  often  as  the  congregation  assembles, 
the  minister  of  the  Word  salutes  it  with  this 
assunince.  and  at  the  clo.se  dismisses  it  with  the 
same  in  the  name  of  the  Lord. 

To  be  near  unto  God  is  the  vital  strength  of 
all  believers.  That  alone  and  nothing  else.  He 
wh  J  wanders  away  from  God,  and  becomes 
estranged  from  him,  weakens  himself,  disturbs  his 
inner  life,  and  is  lost  again  in  the  world.  On  the 
other  hand  he  who  continues  to  be  near  unto  God 
and  lives  in  secret  fellowship  with  God,  drinks  in 
the  powers  of  the  kingdom  each  morning  anew, 
lives  in  spiritual  realities,  and  is  breathed  upon 
from  on  high.  And  this  salutation  of  blessing 
an  I  this  dismissal  with  blessin^-  is  the  constantly 
repeated  a^urance  from  the  Triune  GoJ  that  his 
grace,  his  love  and  his  fellowship  continue  to  in- 
cline toward  you:  that  God  will  be  near  unto 
you,  in  order  that  you  may  be  near  unto  him, 
and  that  it  is  your  sin  alone  that  deprives  you  of 
this  blessed  communion. 

576 


105 

I,  THE  LORD  THY  GOD,  AM  A  JEALOUS 
GOD." 

Say  to  my  people,"  said  the  Lord  to  Ezekiel: 
I  know  the  things  that  come  into  your  mind, 
pvcry  one  of  them"  (Ezekiel  11:5).  Hence  also  he 
knows  what  should,  but  does  not,  come  into  it. 
\-  itiier  the  all-seeing  eye  nor  the  all-hearing  ear 
he  Holy  One  of  Israel  are  ever  impeded.  The 
.  it  of  that  eye  penetrates  into  everything,  and 
no  vibration  escapes  the  hearing  of  that  ear.  In 
one  of  the  marble  tombs  at  Syracuse  the  tyrant 
Dionysius  was  able  to  build  a  wondrously  far- 
carr>'ing  echo,  that  he  might  overhear  the  con- 
versations of  his  captured  opponents.  Even  now 
this  echo  clearly  returns  the  crackling  of  a  sheet 
of  paper  at  a  distance  of  several  hundred  feet, 
and  as  the  stor>'  runs,  nothing  kept  tliese  prisoners 
in  check  like  this  so-called  "ear  of  Dionysius." 
They  could  not  put  it  out  of  mind.  They  thought 
of  it  with  every  word.  It  ruled  their  spirit  and 
their  life.  . 

This  is  what  these  wretched  prisoners  did  for 
the  sake  of  the  ear  of  a  man.  And  what  do  we 
do  about  the  holy  ear  of  the  all-hearing  God? 
What  do  we  do  for  him  who  does  not  only  see 
and  see  through  everything  we  do,  but  to  whom 
also  every  word  is  known  before  it  passes  over 
our  lips.  Yea,  who  moreover  scans  the  thoughts, 
which  we  will  never  put  into  words,  and  who  is 
aware  of  every  impulse,  every  motion  every 
vibration,  which  will  never  crystallize  itself  within 
us  into  a  thought,  but  which  nevertheless  comes 
into  our  mind.    He  who  does  not  believe,  experi- 

677 


ences  no  impression,  no  influence,  no  governing 
power  of  that  all-knowing  and  all-hearing  char- 
acter of  the  perceptions  of  God.  He  acts,  speaks, 
thinks  and  allows  his  inner  life  to  operate  as 
though  there  were  no  God  who  watches  him,  who 
overhears  him,  and  whose  eye  inwardly  searches 
him. 

He  who  believe.?  can  not  act  thus.  With  hiiu 
the  fear  of  the  Lord  is  identified  with  every  awak- 
ening in  the  life  of  his  soul;  and  when  he  thinks 
of  God.  he  refrains  from  the  evil  deed  for  the  sake 
of  God's  holy  will;  he  shrinks  from  the  unbe- 
coming word,  suppresses  the  unholy  thought,  and 
repres.ses  everything  sinful  or  demoniac  that  would 
enter  into  his  spirit.  But  alas,  his  soul  is  far  from 
being  alwaj'S  as  fully  awake  as  this.  During  long 
periods  of  his  life,  his  faith,  as  it  were,  slumbers. 
Then  he  does  not  think  of  God.  He  does  not 
concern  him.self  about  God.  And  he  is  almost 
indifferent  to  what  God  observ^es  in  his  inmost 
life,  of  his  doings  and  of  his  omissions,  and  all  this 
leads  to  sin,  until  the  conscience  begins  again  to 
operate,  and  God  awakens  him.  Is,  then,  our  life 
of  faith  from  fear  only?  No,  it  is  through  that 
fear  from  love.  From  Horeb  it  was  announced  to 
the  people  of  God:  "I,  the  Lord  thy  God,  am  a 
zealous,  i.  e.  a  jealous  God,  visiting  the  iniquity 
of  the  fathers  upon  the  children"  (Exodus  20:5). 

It  is  our  ble.s.sed  privilege,  that  we  may  be  near 
unto  God.  that  we  may  enjoy  his  presence  and 
his  fellowship,  and  that  we  may  taste  his  secret 
walk.  But  to  our  spiritual  perception  responds  a 
perception  from  the  side  of  God.  To  him  who 
loves  us  more  tenderly  than  a  father,  it  is  a 
Dvine  delight,  when  his  child  is  mindful  of  him, 


thinks  of  him,  goes  out  to  him,  and  seeks  his  holy 
fellowship.  On  the  other  hand  Gods  love  is 
wounded  when  his  child  can  forget  him,  and  not 
think  of  him,  and  be  engaged  in  mmd  with 
everything  save  him;  when,  as  far  as  it  depends 
on  us,  he  is  the  forsaken  one.  For,  m  order 
deeply  and  strongly  to  impress  upon  the  heart 
the  outgoing  of  the  Fatherheart  of  God  after 
love's  fellowship  with  his  child,  God  m  his  word 
does  not  shrink  from  representing  this  love  to  us 
in  the  image  of  conjugal  affection  .     ^^    ,  •  i 

In  the  description  of  connubial  love  m  Ezekiel 
16    it  is  constantly  declared  that  God  hath   be- 
trothed himself  unto  Israel.    In  the  image  of^  the 
church  as  bride,  the  passionate  love  which  umolds 
in  the  relation  of  husband  and  wife,  is  repeatedly 
applied  to  God  and  his  people     As  a  bride  lives 
solely    and   alone    for   her   bridegroom     so    must 
God's  people  live  solely  and  alone  for  God.    And 
as   desertion   on   the   part   of   the   bride    or   wife 
deeply   offends   the   heart    of   the   bridegroom   or 
husband,    wounds    and   bruises    it,    so    that    envy 
arises  irresistibly,  even  jealousy  burning  like  hre 
so  the  Lord  our  God  declares  that  he  is  moved 
by  holy   envv  when  his  people   can  forget  him 
when  his  redeemed   ones  can  wander  away   and 
desert  him  in  his  love.    Yea,  then,  even  the  anger 
of  quick  jealousv  can  not  be  restrained.     -Who 
visiteth  the  iniqmty  of  the  fathers  upon  the  chil- 
dren   unto    the    third    and    fourth    generation 
Thus  to  be  near  unto  God  has  its  terrible  other 
side     He  who  is  not  near  unto  God,  is  near  unto 
something   else,  inclines  his  heart   to   something 
else    gives  his  love  to  something  else.     And  this 
provokes  Divine  jealousy.    Whether  in  that  case 


579 


you  pawn  away  your  love  to  your  own  self,  or  to 
a  man  as  your  idol,  to  the  world,  or  to  demoniac 
spirits,  the  Scripture  always  and  unconditionally 
condemns  this  as  a  drawing  away  of  self  from 
God,  as  a  violation  of  faithfulness  to  God,  as  a 
wandering  away  from  the  Holy  One,  and  as  a 
desertion  from  him  who  alone  is  worthy  of  all  love. 
There  is  here  no  neutral  ground.  It  is  always 
engaging  the  heart  with  something,  surrendering 
the  heart  to  something,  or  a  coming  into  the  mind 
of  something  which  does  not  reach  out  after  God, 
but  after  God's  creaturely  competitor,  and  which 
within  the  sacred  domain  of  Divine  love  is  on  this 
account  an  enemy  and  an  opponent. 

And  this  arouses  holy  jealousy.  Not,  indeed,  as 
though  there  were  passion  in  God,  but  in  place 
of  it  there  is  sensitiveness  in  God,  which  with 
respect  to  power  of  operation,  far  exceeds  all 
human  passion.  With  conjugal  love  only  what  is 
known  and  observed  ofifends,  but  there  is  so  much 
that  is  not  known  and  that  consequently  does  not 
offend.  With  wedded  love  there  is  also  mislead- 
ing and  deception.  But  even  this  does  not  offend 
so  long  as  it  is  not  known.  No  bridegroom  on 
earth  can  scan  his  bride  to  the  roots  of  her  inner 
life.  This  leaves  a  wide  margin  which  is  not 
taken  into  account. 

But  all  this  is  unthinkable  in  the  case  of  the 
Lord  your  God.  In  all  you  do  and  leave  undone, 
in  all  your  thoughts  and  speech,  in  all  your  inner 
ponderings  and  perceptions,  nothing  escapes  him. 
He  enters,  restlessly,  more  deeply  into  your  inner- 
most being  than  the  brightest  beam  of  light  into 
the  bedding  of  the  stream.  And  here  no  mislead- 
ing avails,  no  presentation  of  self  other  than  you 

580 


are,  and  no  hypocrisy.  His  all-penetrating  glance 
puts  every  cover  aside.  And  these  two  taken  to- 
gether account  for  the  fact,  that  sensitiveness  in 
Divine  love  is  far  more  strongly  moved  to  jeal- 
ousy, than  strongest  human  passion  can  ever 
arouse  brooding  envy. 

When  we  are  not  remembered  by  our  friends  it 
troubles  us.  But  it  troubles  the  bridegroom  far 
more  grievously  when  he  perceives  that  his  bride 
is  filled  with  other  thoughts  than  of  him.  Tender- 
est  love  demands  that  we  are  continually  engaged 
with  one  another,  that  during  temporary  separa- 
tion we  live  together  in  thought,  and  that  while 
the  separation  lasts,  we  cherish  no  other  desire 
than  to  meet  one  another  again,  to  be  near  one 
another  again,  and  in  each  other's  company  to  feel 
rich  and  happy  and  blessed.  Apply  this  to  your 
love  for  God,  to  your  confession  that  it  is  good 
for  you  to  be  near  unto  God.  For  this  love,  too, 
IS  unique.  It  is  no  love  by  the  side  of  another 
love,  but  one  which  far  excels,  and  is  bound  to 
govern  every  other  attachment,  every  other  affec- 
tion, every  other  union  of  soul.  It  is  not  loving 
wife,  child,  church,  country  and  God,  but  it  is 
loving  God  alone,  and  from  this  love  have  the 
cherishing  affections  flow  forth,  with  which  you 
also  love  your  wife  and  child,  your  church  and 
native  land. 

And  is  it  then  too  much  for  God  to  ask,  that 
you  will  always  be  engaged  with  him,  that  you 
will  always  think  of  him,  will  always  let  the  heart 
go  out  to  him.  and  that  you  will  repress  every- 
thing that  enters  into  your  mind  to  lead  you  away 
from  him  and  to  induce  you  to  forsake  him?  Is  it 
not  God's  jealousy  of  your  love,  your  honor,  your 

681 


highness  and  your  glory?  And  is  it  no  violation 
of  yourself  and  of  your  God  when  you  discard 
this  holy  urgency  of  love,  and  play  with  it,  and 
for  the  sake  of  religious  recreation  spasmodically 
return  to  it,  only  to  withdraw  yourself  presently 
from  it  again,  that  in  your  innermost  soul  you 
may  engage  yourself  with  all  sorts  of  things  except 
God? 

The  wound  which  this  inflicts  upon  his  holy 
love  would  not  be  so  grievous  if  God  could  for- 
get you  for  a  time,  even  as  you  forsake  him. 
But  God  can  not  do  this.  Before  there  is  yet  a 
word  in  your  lips,  behold,  he  knows  it  altogether. 
As  God  himself  declares:  "I  know  the  things  that 
come  into  your  mind,  every  one  of  them."  Thus, 
also,  let  us  repeat  it:  does  he  know  every  one  of 
the  things  that  ought,  but  do  not  come  into  it. 
He  knows  and  mourns  every  moment  that  you  do 
not  think  of  him,  that  you  are  not  engaged  with 
him,  that  you  do  not  seek  him,  do  not  desire  his 
nearness,  and  shamefully  live  apart  from  his 
secret  walk.  And  when  in  spite  of  all  this  you 
still  sing  with  the  multitude:  "But  it  is  good  for 
me  to  be  near  unto  God!"  is  there  then  not 
something  of  a  provocation  on  your  part  which 
offends  and  which  is  bound  to  wound  God? 

And  if  this  is  the  reverse  of  what  it  is  to  desire 
to  be  near  unto  God,  confess,  does  there  not 
spring  from  this  an  entirely  unthought  of  new 
impulse  to  make  your  seeking  after  God's  near- 
ness an  ever  deeper  reality  in  your  life?  As  long 
as  you  view  nearness  unto  God  from  your  side 
alone,  you  can  comfort  yourself  for  any  temporal 
loss  of  it  by  considering  the  compensating,  un- 
speakable  riches   of   the   single    moments    of   its 

582 


enjoyment.  But  when  you  consider  nearness  unto 
God,  thinking  of  God,  being  engaged  with  God, 
from  the  side  of  God  who  loves  you,  an  entirely 
different  note  mingles  itself  in  this  love-song. 
Then  you  can  not  and  will  not  grieve  the  Holy 
spirit.  Then  it  is  not  your  soul  alone  which  seeks 
God,  but  far  more  yet,  it  is  God  who  awaits  the 
love  of  your  soul.  It  is  your  God  who  with  holy 
'jealousy  is  angry  every  moment  that  you  with- 
draw yourself  from  his  seeking  love. 

106 

'THE  SIGNS  OF  THE  TIMES." 

Times  differ.  They  are  not  age  upon  age,  one 
monotonous  sameness.  They  are  rather  contin- 
uous succession  and  restless  change.  And  even  of 
a  century,  which  has  just  closed,  and  which  as 
"the  nineteenth  century"  almost  imagined  itself 
to  have  been  the  discoverer  of  the  abiding  light, 
it  can  be  said  in  the  words  of  the  Psalmist 
(Ps.  102:26) :  "It  shall  wax  old  as  doth  a  garment, 
and  shall  be  changed."  From  this  difference  fol- 
lows the  "difference  of  signs,"  not  unlike  the  dif- 
ference in  weather.  Sea-  and  landman,  who  are 
both  dependent  on  the  weather  for  sailing  and 
agriculture,  have  learned  from  their  youth  up 
how  to  observe  these  signs.  Not  as  wonderful 
signs  that  had  never  been  seen  before.  But  even 
as  the  preacher  at  Jerusalem  taught:  "That  which 
has  been  is  now;  and  that  which  is  to  be  hath 
already  been"   (Eccl.  3:15). 

For  the  most  part  these  "signs  of  the  times" 
show  themselves  even  as  the  signs  in  weather, 
solely  in  different  degrees  of  strength  with  which 

583 


ordinary  phenomena  appear,  and  consequently  in 
their  mutual  relation.  Whether  in  the  evening  the 
sky  shows  itself  bright  or  dull  red,  depends  upon 
the  greater  or  lesser  density  with  which  mists  or 
vapours  place  themselves  between  our  eye  and 
the  red  glow  of  the  setting  sun.  And  so  in  the 
world  of  spirits,  an  entirely  distinct  constellation 
exhibits  itself,  according  as  the  cloud  of  religion 
pervades  life  with  full  weight  or  remains  sus-* 
pended,  light  and  extremely  transparent,  over  the 
waters  of  life. 

The  difference  in  this  respect  between  age  and 
age  is  evident.  In  the  age  of  the  Reformation 
the  vast  plea  of  religion  filled  almost  all  of  life. 
In  the  court  room,  in  the  cabinet  of  princes,  in 
public  opinion,  in  the  pulpit,  in  the  market  place 
and  especially  in  the  family,  religion  was  more 
than  anything  else  the  decisive  factor.  From 
every  side  it  appeared  in  the  heavens  clear,  fiery 
red.  Now  compare  with,  this  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury. How  dull  its  red  was  then.  All  its  bright- 
ness had  waned,  all  warmth  of  religion  was  with- 
drawn to  a  single  mystical  group,  and  in  public 
life  religion  was  debased  to  trivial  reasoning,  to 
ignorant  self-conceit,  laughter  and  scorn.  Then 
came  the  nineteenth  century,  brought  to  higher 
seriousness  by  revolution  and  Napoleonic  wars, 
and  in  the  religious  domain  it  furnished  us  three 
signs:  1°,  in  the  Christian  domain  and  in  a  very 
limited  circle  the  Reveille;  2°,  as  a  new  find  the 
quickly  exhausted  modern  theology,  and  3°,  by 
the  side  and  on  account  of  this,  in  the  broad 
domain  of  science,  endless  doubt  and  proud 
materialism,  and  among  the  upper  classes,  cold 
unbelief,  a  break  with  all  religion. 

684 


In  our  twentieth  century,  however,  the  table 
turns  again.  There  is  once  more  a  reveille,  but 
not  in  the  Christian  domain.  It  is  far  more  a 
reveille  of  mystic,  religious  feeling,  entirely  inde- 
pendent of  Christianity,  for  the  most  part  re- 
jecting the  way  of  truth  and  seeking  ways  of  its 
own,  and  thus  of  itself  falling  back  into  ways 
which  man  had  discovered  in  earlier  times. 
Spiritism,  theosophy,  Buddhism  are  now  the 
desired  articles.  A  few,  though  these  are  excep- 
tions, even  turn  to  the  Crescent  again.  What  is 
not  observed,  is  return  on  a  broad  scale  to  the 
Man  of  Sorrows.  People  want  to  become  relig- 
ious, but  they  must  be  allowed  to  remain  anti- 
clerical. In  the  eighteenth  century  the  slumber- 
ing. In  the  nineteenth  the  pouring  out  of  the 
spirit  of  deep  sleep.  In  the  twentieth  century  a 
gradual  awakening  of  religion,  but  still  dozing  in 
false,  mystical  dreams.  The  Christ  and  his  Cross 
are  passed  by. 

The  Pharisee  does  not  observe  such  "signs  of 
the  times"  (see  Matthew  16:3).  He  thinks  and 
continues  to  think  that  everything  within  his 
narrower  circle  is  good  and  sound,  and  everything 
outside  of  it  evil  and  unholy.  And  he  does  not 
surmise  even  from  afar  the  influence  which  the 
change  in  the  spirit  of  the  times  exerts  upon  him 
and  upon  his  circle.  The  true  disciples  of  Jesus 
do  not  do  so.  They  know  better.  They  feel 
and  understand  that  in  the  spiritual  domain  also 
the  waters  of  life  continually  merge  into  one  an- 
other. They  notice  it  in  themselves  and  in  their 
famihes  and  in  their  associates;  they  see  how  the 
general  conditions  of  spirits  work  effects  on  every 
side.    And  with  every  new  change  they  ask  them- 

585 


selves  what  criticism  this  demands  at  their  hands, 
and  what  duty  this  lays  upon  them. 

They  maintain  their  stand.  They  do  this  by 
the  grace  that  is  within,  and  by  the  spiritual 
impulse  that  operates  in  them.  Though  they 
should  have  to  die  for  Jesus,  they  can  not  for- 
sake his  Cross.  With  ties  that  can  not  be  loosed 
the  Cross  lies  bound  on  their  heart.  They  feel 
themselves  as  in  an  oasis,  around  which  as  far  as 
e.ve  can  see  grins  the  grey  spiritual  barrenness 
of  the  desert.  In  this  oasis  they  rejoice.  There 
they  drink  from  the  fountain  of  life  and  enjoy 
the  bread,  and  shade  of  palm  trees.  They  make 
their  children  enjoy  it  with  them.  They  give 
thanks,  they  glory,  they  jubilate.  But  nothing  in 
them  makes  them  boast  of  it.  God  Almighty  has 
brought  them  to  this  oasis.  Not  because  of  any 
good  there  was  in  them.  They  know  themselves 
in  no  particular  better  than  anyone  else.  Each 
day,  rather,  they  dress  again  the  bleeding  wound 
of  their  own  heart.  It  is  grace  and  nothing  but 
grace.  Grace,  which  in  its  entirety,  never  was  any- 
thing but  grace.  , 

But  the  desert,  round  about  this  oasis,  still  con- 
cerns them.  The  sand  waves  from  it  fly  upward. 
The  hot  wind  travels  ihrough  it.  And  they  who 
wander  in  this  desert,  are  they  not  in  many 
instances  their  fellow  countr5-men3  not  infre- 
quently of  their  own  family?  Sometimes  their 
own  friends.  And  apart  from  this,  what  talent, 
what  civic  virtue,  what  noble  sense  glistens  among 
these  wanderers.  Much  that  is  low,  much  that  is 
common,  much  that  is  rough,  it  is  true.  Such  are 
the  masses,  but  all  are  not  such.    And  praj'er  in 

586 


behalf  of  these  wanderers,  involuntarily,  ascends 
from  their  troubled  hearts. 

Even  in  the  deepest  parts  of  their  inward  life 
they  undergo  the  noticeable  influence  of  this 
change  in  the  signs  of  the  times.  To  be  near 
unto  God  and  to  continue  there  is  far  easier  when 
everything  around  you  warmly  calls  for  the  honor 
of  God,  than  when  the  spirit  of  the  times  opposes 
eveiything  holJ^  This  was  the  holy  secret  of  a 
long  period  in  the  middle  ages,  the  secret  also  of 
the  fifteenth  and  a  part  of  the  sixteenth  century. 
Almost  everything  pressed  after  God's  nearness. 
Rehgion  was  the  atmosphere  which  was  breathed 
of  itself.  Hence  the  overpious  traditions  from 
both  these  periods.  But  the  thermometer  has 
since  gone  down.  First  it  became  cool,  then  cold, 
then  shivery.  Everything  broke  down,  everything 
obstructed  the  way  when  the  soul  went  out  to 
seek  God's  nearness.  O,  so  much  that  blossomed 
before,  now  froze.  Hence  the  search  after  God  and 
approach  to  his  nearness  demanded  effort  before 
unknown.  It  became  a  struggle.  A  climbing  with 
hands  and  feet  in  order  to  ascend  the  holy  moun- 
tain. And  in  addition  to  this,  what  mists  still 
interv'ene  that  cut  off  the  outlook,  what  effort  it 
still  takes  to  keep  oneself  standing  above  it.  And 
above  all,  what  painful  distance  extends  between 
this  high  mountain  top  and  the  world  below  at 
the  foot,  which  is  still  your  world,  and  into  which 
your  daily  task  calls  you. 

True,  there  is  gain.  That  which  results  from 
this  continuous,  serious,  and  holy  effort, '  goes 
deeper,  is  more  enjoyable,  and  affords  tenderer 
blessedness.  He  who  in  spite  of  current  and 
storm  drops  anchor  in  the  harbor,  has  higher  joy 

587 


than  he  who  has  drifted  with  weather  and  wind 
and  tide.  But  it  brings  weariness.  It  wears  on 
the  mind.  And  the  aftermath  of  this  exhaustion 
involves  the  danger  that  the  spirit  of  the  world 
outwits  j^ou,  and  makes  you  dread  still  more  a 
new  course,  which  is  attended  with  danger,  per- 
haps of  death.  If,  then,  forsooth,  being  near 
unto  God  at  such  times  is  more  blessed,  the 
joy  of  it  is  less  permanent.  And  more  times  fol- 
low of  wandering  away  and  of  estrangement  in 
between. 

This  unfavorable  change  in  the  signs  of  the 
times  also  brings  new  duties.  The  captain  who 
safely  made  the  harbor  through  curretit  and 
storm,  can  not  be  indifferent  to  the  other  sailors, 
who,  less  fortunate  than  himself,  outside  still 
struggle  with  death.  Or,  he  who  has  reached  the 
oasis,  and  quenches  thirst  and  feasts,  should 
not  be  indifferent  to  the  long  caravan  that  still 
wanders  amid  mortal  dangers  in  the  desert.  And 
you,  who  by  grace,  and  nothing  but  grace,  re- 
fresh yourself  in  the  nearness  of  God,  you  should 
not,  can  not,  if  rightly  disposed,  be  selfishly  indif- 
ferent to  the  thousands  and  thousands  who,  lost  in 
byways,  do  not  know  Christ,  do  not  understand 
the  cross,  and  therefore  live  without  God  in  the 
world.  No  hardness  therefore  for  them,  but  Divine 
pity  of  soul.  No  pity  that  spitefully  scorns  and 
repels,  but  pity  that  by  courage  invites,  and  as  a 
sacred  magnet  attracts.  Never  hide  nor  cloak 
your  religion.  Never  indulge  in  guilty  silence  or 
behavior  as  though  you  were  one  of  them.  Never 
practice  cowardice  that  deems  itself  love.  .  But 
understand  them.  Enter  into  .  their,  condition. 
Show  them  not  your  own  wisdom,  but  your  heart. 

588 


Always   let   them   feel    that   you    care    for   their 
eternal  welfare. 

In  order  that  you  may  do  this,  do  not  separate 
yourself,  but  take  part  in  actual  life.  Be  at  home 
in  what  the  things  of  the  world,  under  God's 
providence,  provide  of  interest  and  beauty.  Al- 
ways keep  open  a  space  where  you  can  meet 
worldly  people,  discover  yourself  to  them,  and 
talk  with  them.  Truly,  their  estrangement  can 
become  ill  will  and  resistance.  A  moment  may 
come,  when,  by  forgetting  yourself,  you  might 
turn  the  holy  into  ridicule.  And  then  breaking 
away  may  become  duty.  But  even  as  on  the  way 
to  the  cross  your  Savior  ever  had  his  eye  on  the 
world,  and  on  the  cross  still  prayed  for  forgiveness 
for  those  who  knew  not  what  they  did,  so  should 
the  eye  of  your  seeking  love  be  upon,  and  your 
prayer  continue  in  behalf  of,  those  who  have 
wandered  from  the  fold  of  God.  In  this  seeking 
love  and  in  this  prayer  you  will  have  the  surest 
sign  that  you  are  not  mistaken,  but  that  you  your- 
self in  all  reality  are  near  unto  your  God. 

107 

"WHEN  I  WAS  A  CHILD." 

Our  secret  walk  with  the  Eternal  does  not  fol- 
low a  fixed,  uniform  model.  That  which  presents 
itself  in  this  exceedingly  holy  and  deeply  spiritual 
domain  in  an  imitated  form,  arouses  the  suspicion 
of  insincerity.  Even  in  human  fellowship  all 
friendship  of  a  more  intimate  sort  struggles  to 
free  itself  from  the  stress  of  conventional  usage. 
Uniformity  only  prevails,  and  only  may  prevail 
in   human   intercourse   when   contact   in   broader 


circles  is  superficial,  which  brings  the  kindly  smile 
to  the  face,  but  does  not  evoke  it  from  the  heart. 
Our  life  with  God  can  not  subject  itself  to  the 
mechanical.  Even  as  in  nature,  the  utterance  of 
life  in  the  spiritual  realm  is  organic.  And  as 
every  tree  unfolds  a  different  leaf,  and  every  stem 
a  flower-bud  of  its  own,  so  every  human  heart 
discloses  itself  to  God  in  its  own  way,  sings  an  own 
song  unto  God  in  an  own  tune,  and  in  the  secret 
walk  with  the  Almighty  tastes  an  intimacy  of 
enjoyment  which  corresponds  to  the  proper  need 
of  its  own  inner  existence,  and  can  not  be  enjoyed 
in  just  that  way  by  any  one  else. 

If  anywhere,  the  apostolic  word  applies  here: 
"With  one  after  this  manner,  and  with  another 
after  that."  Sex  exerts  influence  on  this,  and 
temperament,  conditions  of  life,  nationality, 
nature,  disposition  and  character.  And  even 
where  these  data  show  themselves  almost  exactly 
alike  in  the  members  of  the  same  family,  there 
is  yet  such  a  great  difference  in  what  is  personal 
that  two  brothers  or  two  sisters  only  very  rarely 
exhibit  entire  likeness  of  appearance  in  their 
mystic,  religious  nature. 

A  sharply  marked  difference  with  respect  to 
this  shows  itself  not  only  between  two  or  more 
persons;  a  similar  difference  also  shows  itself  with 
the  selfsame  person.  Your  own  sacred  sensations 
in  your  search  after  nearness  to  God  are  by  no 
means  always  of  like  nature.  It  is  evident  that 
they  differ  moreover  in  degree  of  distinctness  of 
impression.  But  that  is  not  all.  They  also  dif- 
fer in  character  and  nature.  They  are  altogether 
different  in  moments  of  intense  joy  from  what 
they   are    in    moments    of   dire    need   and   great 

690 


anxiety.  Robust  health  or  wasting  disease  imparts 
an  altogether  different  stamp  to  your  inner  exist- 
ence. After  victory  over  self  in  the  hour  of 
temptation  your  fellowship  with  God  is  of  an 
entirely  different  nature  from  what  it  is  after 
fainting  in  sin  and  fall.  Under  all  this  the  heart 
is  always  the  selfsame  organ,  but  entirely  different 
combinations  of  registers  are  opened  every  time, 
and  constantly  changing  is  the  chord.  And  this 
continuous  changing  and  becoming  different  must 
every  time  be  pointed  out,  because  death  reigns 
supreme  in  imitation,  in  sameness,  in  uniformity, 
and  rich,  full,  blossoming  life  of  godliness  only 
revels  in  endless  variety  and  uniqueness. 

One  difference  can  not  be  emphasized  suffi- 
ciently: to-wit,  the  difference  in  age.  The  apostle 
describes  it  so  accurately:  "When  I  was  a  child, 
I  spake  as  a  child,  I  understood  as  a  child,  I 
thought  as  a  child"  (I  Cor.  13:11).  But  it  did 
not  continue  so.  Later  it  was  altogether  different: 
"When  I  became  a  man,  I  put  away  childish 
things."  Consider  carefully  that  the  apostle  men- 
tions this  difference  between  the  existence  of  a 
child  and  that  of  a  man,  when  he  treats  of  the 
personal  knowledge,  which  we  have  of  our  God. 
The  working  of  this  difference,  of  course,  is  far 
more  delicate.  For  the  sake  of  brevity  the  apostle 
merely  places  the  child  by  the  side  of  the  full- 
grown  man.  It  needs  but  a  reminder,  however, 
that  the  lad  and  the  young  girl  exist  differently 
from  the  youth  and  the  young  maiden.  That  the 
man  in  the  strength  of  his  life  is  different  from 
the  man  in  his  declining  years,  and  that  at  the 
end  of  the  pilgrim  journey  the  grey  old  man 
again  presents  an  own  image  with  own  needs  of 

591 


soul.  And  all  these  transitions  in  age  and  con- 
ditions of  soul  exert  of  themselves  a  necessary- 
influence  upon  our  communion  life  with  God. 
What  comes,  develops  itself  from  what  went 
before.  Thus  with  the  regular,  undisturbed  de- 
velopment of  person  there  is  a  continual  enrich- 
ment, strengthening  and  deepening  of  personality. 
Moreover  every  new  phase  of  life  adds  to  what 
went  before  a  ne\Miess  of  utterance,  even  in  such 
strong  measures  that  the  old  man  finds  it  difficult 
to  think  himself  back  in  the  threatening  struggle 
of  passions,  in  which  he  had  to  defend  or  to 
recover  his  fellowship  with  God.  But  though 
modification,  change  and  reforming  of  the  secret 
walk  goes  on  until  the  end,  Christ  himself  indi- 
cated that  with  respect  to  this  there  is  a  striking 
difference  between  the  child  and  the  man,  which 
lends  an  altogether  proper  type  to  the  inner 
existence  of  each;  and  neglect  to  recognize  this 
radical  difference  frequently  ruins  fundamentally 
the  Christian  training. 

Provided  the  family  and  other  surroundings 
do  not  from  the  first  choke  the  seed  of  religion 
in  a  child,  the  mind  of  the  child  is  religious.  Not 
by  pretension,  but  by  receptivity  for  holy  impres- 
sions and  by  silent  reverence  for  the  Eternal 
Being.  To  teach  a  child  how  to  pray,  when  it 
is  done  under  Christian  guidance,  and  in  no 
mechanical  way,  is  a  beautiful  and  tender  delight 
of  soul.  This  is  not  so  because  of  his  knowledge 
of  the  holy.  But  because  even  when  the  child 
can  not  yet  read,  and  is  far  less  able  to  follow  the 
catechism,  let  alone  to  understand  it,  he  stands 
instinctively  related  with  the  world  of  hidden 
things.    He  can  give  himself  no  account  of  this. 

592 


He  is  not  conscious  of  it,  and  therefore  can  not 
explain  it.  But  it  is  evident  even  from  his  fear 
in  the  dark,  or  at  strange  sights  and  sounds. 

This  fear  shows  that  the  child  knows  and  per- 
ceives the  existence  of  another  world  from  that 
which  he  sees  with  his  eyes.  Hence  his  faith  in 
the  reality  of  the  phantoms  that  create  his  fear. 
This  sense  of  the  existence  of  a  mysterious  world, 
and  the  perception  that  this  mysterious  world 
can  unveil  itself,  immediately  governs  the  mind 
of  the  child.  His  delight  in  fables  and  fairy  tales 
is  directly  connected  with  this,  and  imparts  to 
the  soul  of  the  child  that  intensity  and  depth 
which  addresses  you  so  alluringly  from  his  eye. 
And  by  this  same  trait  the  child  instinctively 
opens  his  heart  to  religion.  It  is  an  unseen  work- 
ing that  goes  out  from  the  unseen  world  upon  the 
heart  of  the  child.  It  is  God  himself  who  plaj's 
the  tender  harp  in  the  child  heart.  This  natural 
religiousness  of  the  child  is  more  closely  related 
with  the  life  of  the  blessed  than  the  religion  of  us 
who  are  full  grown.  With  us  a  whole  world  of 
thought,  of  reasoning  and  consequent  doubt  enters 
in  between,  which  is  only  lifted  out  again  at  our 
death.  Hence  the  word  of  Jesus,  that  "to  become 
as  a  little  child"  is  regeneration  of  our  person 
which  alone  admits  us  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

Nothing  therefore  is  more  cruel  and  painful 
than  to  see  a  child  abandoned  to  leading  and 
training  which  has  no  understanding  of  this,  and 
which  treats  the  child  as  a  small  adult.  This 
kills  and  destroys  the  childtype  in  the  childheart. 
Cruel  and  painful  is  the  artificiality  which  teaches 
the  child  to  pray,  but  with  a  voice  without  tender- 
ness, as  a  something  that  must  be  done,  without 

593 


praying  with  the  child,  so  that  the  child  feels 
more  disturbed  in  his  religious  impulses  than  led 
and  helped.  It  is  equally  cruel  and  painful,  in 
the  presence  of  the  child,  to  be  unsympathetic, 
rough  and  hard  in  holy  things.  This  hurts  the 
heart  of  the  child,  and  then  it  does  not  take  long 
for  the  tender  germ  of  religion  in  the  heart  of  the 
child  to  be  choked.  It  is  cruel  also  to  let  the 
years  of  childhood  pass  without  training  the  child 
in  holy  things,  and  to  think  that  religion  will 
come  somehow  to  him  later  on.  The  early  years 
of  life  are  the  appointed  time  in  which  to  let  the 
foundation  of  all  religion,  which  is  fellowship  with 
God,  crystallize  in  the  heart  of  the  child. 

In  the  childheart  there  is  natural  receptivity 
which,  when  it  is  led  and  trained  in  a  reverent 
way,  imparts  a  bent  to  the  heart  whose  effects 
will  be  beneficial  for  all  of  later  life.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  this  is  not  cultivated,  and  this  first  recep- 
tivity is  destroyed,  even  though  the  religious 
sense  may  awaken  later  on,  it  may  always  lack 
that  fervor  and  tenderness  which  Jesus  demands 
in  our  childlikeness. 

This  danger  can  only  be  averted  by  bringing 
the  child  at  once,  in  his  own  way,  after  his  nature 
and  type,  into  fellowship  with  God  himself.  The 
child  should  learn  to  know  sacred  history,  the 
sacred  truths  of  the  faith,  and  hymns  and  sacred 
songs.  All  this  is  excellent.  But  this  will  not 
avail  unless  first  of  all  the  child's  instinctive  per- 
ception of  a  mysterious  world  unfolds  into  an 
immediate  perception  of  his  fellowship  with  the 
all-seeing,  all-knowing,  omnipresent  God. 

B04 


108 

"MAKE  ABODE  WITH  HIM." 

The  sublime  note  of  joy  with  which  the  apos- 
tolate  went  out  into  the  world,  concentrated  itself 
in  the  confession:  ''The  Word  was  made  flesh, 
and  dwelt  among  us."  The  Gospel  did  not  first 
come  in  Bethlehem,  it  resounded  already  in  Para- 
dise, and  both  Moses  and  the  prophets  are  ignored, 
when  the  gospel  of  grace  is  said  to  have  begun 
with  the  Apostles.  Nay,  rather  the  Israel  of  the 
Prophets  had  the  selfsame  Gospel  as  we.  You 
need  but  turn  to  the  writings  of  New  Testament 
evangelists  and  apostles  to  find  yourself  again  and 
again  referred  back  to  the  Old  Testament,  to  see 
the  proof  of  the  truth  drawn  from  this  ancient 
source,  and  to  find  sharply  outlined,  and  to  us  fre- 
quently surprising,  indications  that  the  treasures 
of  the  new  covenant  have  been  deposited  ages 
ago  in  the  old  covenant,  even  though  at  first  in 
germ  form. 

No,  the  difference  and  the  antithesis  between 
what  lies  before  and  after  Bethlehem  consist  in 
something  else.  There  is  undoubtedly  a  positive 
and  an  absolute  difference  between  the  gospel 
before  and  after  the  manger  cradle.  But  this  dif- 
ference does  not  consist  in  greater  or  lesser  riches 
of  the  Old  or  New  Testament  gospel.  No,  the 
old  and  new  covenant  only  differ  in  this  respect, 
that  the  Old  Testament  lacks  the  reality  of  the 
New  Testament.  This  was  generally  indicated  by 
speaking  of  the  dispensations  of  shadows  and  of 
fulfilment;  but  this  statement  is  far  too  weak. 
The  difference  can  be  expressed  more  accurately 
by-  saying,  that  in  the  Old  Testament  the  image 

5^ 


is  shown,  but  in  the  New  Testament  the  reality 
itself  has  appeared  in  the  person  of  Christ.  "The 
law,  which  is  given  by  Moses"  (John  1:17)  does 
not  refer  to  the  ten  commandments.  The  law 
here  is  the  name  of  the  whole  Old  Testament, 
taken  as  an  instruction,  a  revelation,  a  word  of 
God  addressed  to  Israel.  This  word,  revelation, 
instruction  which  God  gave  in  figure,  began  to 
assume  a  form  with  Moses.  But  when  Bethlehem 
sees  the  birth  of  the  Holy  Infant,  something 
entirely  different  appears.  It  is  no  more  instruc- 
tion and  announcement,  but  it  is  truth  that  is 
given.  And  in  this  connection  truth  means  what 
we  call  reality.  The  image  is  not  the  truth,  the 
shadow  is  not  the  truth.  Image  and  shadow  in 
themselves  are  unreal.  That  which  is  true  only 
comes,  when  in  tangible  reality  he  appears,  whose 
image  has  been  seen  from  afar,  and  whose  Divine 
shadow  has  fallen  upon  Israel. 

Therefore  the  Apostles  emphatically  declared 
that  they  had  seen  Jesus,  that  they  had  heard 
him,  that  they  had  handled  him.  They  empha- 
sized the  fact  that  now  the  Word  has  received 
flesh,  i.  e.  reality  in  the  earthly.  This  empha- 
sized no  less  the  fact  that  Jesus  has  been  foretold 
that  he  has  appeared  at  times,  and  that  he  has 
vanished  again,  but  that  at  last  he  has  come  in 
full  reality,  and  that  from  Bethlehem  to  Gol- 
gotha he  has  dwelt  among  us. 

To  dwell  in  a  place  is  really  and  permanently 
to  tarry  there.  Not  merely  to  come,  but  also  to 
stay.  Not  to  turn  in  for  the  night  a  single  time, 
but  continuously  and  permanently  to  reveal  one's 
presence  in  one.  place.  God.  dwells  in  heaven  and 
his  abode  is  in  the  light.    But  though  the  Scripture 


declares  that  God  dwells  in  the  high  and  lofty 
place,  it  immediately  adds  that  this  same  God 
looks  down  upon  the  children  of  men  on  earth. 
Heaven  and  earth  are  not  intended  to  be  sep- 
arated, but  to  form  a  higher  unity,  so  that  the 
Lord  our  God  dwells  siinultaneously  both  in 
heaven  and  on  earth.  It  began  like  this.  God 
dwelt  in  Paradise  and  originally  the  fellowship  of 
man  with  God  and  of  God  with  his  creature  was 
very  real  and  unbroken.  The  separation  only 
came  when  by  sin  man  expelled  God  from  this 
earth,  drove  him  out  of  his  own  creation  and 
from  fellowship  with  his  own  most  exalted  crea- 
ture. But  God  takes  no  pleasure  in  this.  Expelled 
by  sin,  he  returns  in  seeking  grace.  "Adam,  where 
art  thou?"  is  the  call  of  God,  with  which  he  re- 
turns, and  claims  his  world  again. 

At  length  God  regains  his  abode  on  the  earth. 
Provisionally  in  the  cloud,  in  the  column  of  fire 
and  in  the  tabernacle,  but  fully  symbolical  on 
Zion.  "This  is  my  habitation.  This  is  my  rest," 
said  the  Lord,  "here  will  I  dwell"  (Ps.  132:14). 
Zion  by  the  side  of  Bashan  indicates  that  God  is 
still  expelled  from  the  world  at  large,  but  that  in 
Zion  he  has  prepared  a  place  of  rest  for  himself, 
an  oasis  of  grace,  a  habitation  of  his^  own.  This 
sacred  symbolical  return  of  God  to  this  world 
prophesied  age  upon  age  in  advance  the  glorious 
Bethlehem  event.  And  when  at  length  the  full- 
ness of  time  is  come,  and  the  Babe  is  born  in 
Bethlehem,  God  no  longer  dwells  symbolically  in 
Zion,  but  in  full  reality  in  Christ.  And  therefore 
the  Apostles  preach  with  so  much  delight  that 
God  has  been  revealed  in  the  flesh,  and  that  re- 

597 


vealed  in  the  flesh,  i.  e.  in  reality  he  has  dwelt 
among  us. 

Hence  Bethlehem  is  the  real  and  actual  return 
of  God  to  earth,  in  order  here  on  earth  permanently 
to  dwell  with  us  and  among  us.  This  is  the  restora- 
tion of  what  was  real  in  Paradise.  And  does  this 
end  with  Golgotha,  or  if  you  please,  with  the 
ascent  into  heaven?  By  no  means.  For  God  to 
dwell  on  earth  is  only  possible  in  the  fullest  sense 
through  Golgotha  and  the  Ascension.  Between 
Bethlehem  and  Golgotha  there  was  real  dwelling 
of  God  upon  earth,  but  in  the  most  extremely 
limited  sense.  A  dwelling  which  was  confined  to 
one  people,  and  which  among  that  one  people  was 
limited  to  the  narrow  circle  of  those  who  followed 
Jesus.  The  promise,  however,  ran,  that  God 
would  dwell  on  earth  among  all  peoples,  in  all 
parts  of  the  world,  and  that  he  would  be  approach- 
able from  age  to  age  by  every  soul  that  feared 
him. 

And  this  full,  extended,  unlimited,  permanent, 
ever  continuous,  and  ever  self-expanding  dwelling 
of  God  among  the  children  of  men  was  only  pos- 
sible when  Jesus  was  no  longer  seen  and  heard, 
and  handled  among  one  people,  in  a  narrow  circle, 
but  when  he  was  elevated  to  the  throne  of  grace 
and  glorified.  From  thence  he  could  extend  his 
working  to  every  people  and  to  every  heart.  For 
this  reason  he  declares  in  the  hearing  of  his  dis- 
ciples: "It  is  expedient  for  you  that  I  go  away," 
and  also  adds:  "When  I  shall  have  gone  away,  I 
shall  come  again,  and  with  the  Father  make  my 
abode  in  you"   (John  14:23). 

Thus  there  is  a  threefold  dwelling  of  God  on 
earth.    First,  symbolical  in  Israel  on  Zion.    After 


that  the  reality  of  the  flesh,  when  Jesus  walked 
about  on  the  earth.  And  now,  in  the  third  place, 
the  dwelling  of  God  among  us  and  in  us  in  all 
parts  of  the  earth.  Our  heart  is  made  a  dwelling 
place  of  God  in  the  Spirit.  Our  heart  is  the  real 
Zion,  and  therefore  our  redeemed  human  heart  is 
the  temple  in  which  he  dwells.  Sin  expels  God. 
In  grace,  God  resolves  to  come  back  and  to  dwell 
again  among  us  and  in  us.  This  constitutes  all 
the  mysticism  of  real,  godly  religion.  Religion 
does  not  begin  with  this.  It  rather  begins  with 
an  outward  confession;  with  knowing  God  only  as 
one  who  lives  above,  and  is  always  conscious  of  a 
fatal  distance  between  self  and  the  Most  High 
God. 

But  grace  for  grace  gradually  works  modification 
in  this,  and  makes  internal  what  began  with  being 
external.  To  have  the  Spirit,  is  to  have  God  him- 
self in  one's  own  heart,  to  carry  him  about  in 
one's  own  soul,  and  the  new  commandment  of 
brotherly  love  is  nothing  but  the  commandment, 
that  as  you  carry  God  about  in  your  own  heart, 
you  should  discover  that  same  God  dwelling  in 
the  heart  of  the  brother,  and  that  you  should  join 
heart  to  heart,  because  that  selfsame  God  fills  the 
heart  of  each.  But  although  this  is  so,  most  peo- 
ple are  afraid  to  face  it.  Though  God  dwells  in 
their  heart,  they  every  time  put  him  back  into 
the  corner  of  their  heart.  Thus  they  become 
aware  again  of  distance,  and  for  the  greater  part 
withdraw  their  heart  from  God.  And  this  is  the 
sin  of  the  saints. 

But  grace  holds  on.  God  will  not  let  you  go. 
From  the  corner  of  the  heart  in  which  you  hold 
him  back,  he  comes  every  time  again  to  capture 

699 


a  part  of  your  heart,  till  at  length  you  throw  up 
your  hands,  open  your  whole  heart  to  him,  and 
now  experience  with  joy  that  he  really  in  Christ 
has  made  his  abode  in  you.  This  is  the  contin- 
uous Christmas  gospel.  Not  a  Christmas  gospel 
that  remains  standing  by  the  manger,  but  such 
an  one  as  passes  over  from  the  manger  into  your 
own  heart.  First  the  jubilant  note  of  the  aposto- 
late :  "The  Word  was  made  flesh  and  dwelt  among 
us."  And  then  the  song  of  praise  on  the  part  of 
God's  saint:  "The  Word  was  made  flesh,  and  has 
taken  up  his  abode  in  mine  own  heart." 

109 

"WHOM  HAVE  I  IN  HEAVEN  BUT 
THEE?" 

Refreshment  of  grace  is  particulaily  rich  when 
also  in  departing  from  this  world  the  soul  is  priv- 
ileged to  be  near  unto  God.  On  the  death-bed 
highest  bliss  has  often  been  enjoyed.  Many  have 
departed,  not  only  strong  in  faith  and  in  higher 
clearness  of  mind,  but  also  with  the  foretaste  of 
heavenly  joy.  No  rule  can  be  made  for  this. 
A  blessed  death-bed  is  not  alwaj^s  the  reward  of 
holier-mindedness  and  of  deeper  spirituality.  A 
death  bed  that  enhances  the  glory  of  God  has  not 
infrequently  been  the  portion  of  one  who  in  life 
had  wandered  far  away  from  his  Lord.  And  on 
the  other  hand  painful  distress  has  been  witnessed 
on  the  part  of  those  who  for  many  years  had 
known  the  secret  walk  with  God. 

As  a  rule  this  depends  upon  all  sorts  of  things 
that  have  nothing  to  do  with  a  devout  frame  of 
mind  and  heart.     First  upon  age,  temperament, 

600 


the  nature  of  disease,  degree  of  weakness,  state  of 
nerves,  freedom  of  speech  or  diffidence,  and  upon 
the  longer  or  shorter  period  of  dying.  In  part,  it 
also  depends  upon  the  physician.  Whether  he  con- 
ceals the  certainty,  or  at  least  the  probability  of 
the  approaching  end,  or  whether  frankly  and  hon- 
estly he  acquaints  the  patient  with  the  exact  state 
of  things.  Again  it  depends  upon  family  and 
friends,  and  upon  those  who  care  for  the  sick, 
whether  they  are  spiritually  inclined,  and  assist 
the  patient  in  holy  meditations,  or  whether  they 
provide  so-called  diversion  and  vex  him  with 
multifarious  earthly  concerns. 

If  it  happens  that  all  this  co-operates  for  good, 
and  that  he  who  is  about  to  appear  before  God 
lies  for  a  few  days  at  least  with  a  waiting  heart 
at  the  gate  of  eternity,  watching  for  its  opening 
unto  him,  and  meanwhile  bearing  witness  to  the 
power  of  everlasting  life,  sometimes  in  terms 
which  far  excel  ordinary  speech — then  special 
grace  operates  in  such  a  dying  person.  The  Lord 
truly  imparts  this  special  grace  to  comfort  his 
dying  saint,  but  mostly  to  glorify  himself,  and  to 
cause  a  testimony  of  striking  power  to  go  out 
from  so  glorious  a  death-bed. 

The  desire  to  pose  as  a  saint  is  a  sin  which  in 
its  more  refined  forms  cleaves  to  all  religion.  It 
has  even  been  observed  in  martyrs.  This  desire 
would  be  more  generally  in  evidence  if  the  Lord  God 
did  not  prevent  it  by  weakness  and  disease.  And 
in  this  prevention  of  making  a  show  of  one's  piety 
we  are  bound  to  appreciate  grace.  But  some- 
times dying  grace  shows  itself  in  a  higher  form, 
'when .  soniething  of  almost  prophetic  inspiration 
takes  hold  of  a  dying  saint.    This  was  strongly 

601 


evident  in  the  case  of  Jacob  the  patriarch.  But 
though  in  lesser  measure,  occasionally  such  higher 
inspiration  is  still  witnessed  among  us  when  it  is 
not  merely  a  dying  in  faith,  not  merely  a  falling 
asleep  in  Jesus,  but  when  fully  awake  and  with 
open  eye  it  is  a  triumphant  passing  through  the 
gate  of  eternity.  In  such  a  case  there  is  clear 
consciousness,  and  from  it  a  holy  testimony,  be- 
cause he  who  dies  knows  and  feels  until  his  latest 
breath,  that  he  is  near  unto  God. 

But  from  this  it  may  not  be  inferred  that  a  less 
triumphant  death  implies  that  the  soul  was  de- 
prived of  God's  nearness.  Bodily  weakness  all  too 
often  affects  the  mind,  so  that  little  is  observed 
from  without  of  what  inwardly  takes  place  in  the 
spirit.  God  is  able  to  do,  O,  so  much  in  and  for 
the  soul  of  which  a  third  person  can  have  no 
knowledge.  When  an  infant  is  carried  from  the 
cradle  to  the  grave,  no  one  can  say  that  God 
was  not  able  to  minister  grace  to  him.  But  no 
one  saw  anything  of  it.  The  little  one  himself 
knew  nothing  about  it.  The  same  can  take  place 
in  sleep.  Would  anyone  say,  that  while  we  sleep, 
God's  ministry  is  excluded  for  seven  or  eight 
hours  from  our  heart?  In  great  sickness  some- 
times one  can  be  unconscious  for  several  days 
together.  Would  God,  then,  all  those  days  stand 
powerless  before  this  disabled  soul?  The  point 
in  case  of  the  infant,  in  sleep  or  in  sickness  is, 
that  gracious  ministry  can  take  place  on  the  part 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  which  through  physical  causes 
can  not  be  observed  from  without,  but  remains 
concealed  within. 

This  physical  hindrance  occurs  in  most  cases  by 
far  when  the  end  draws  near.     Most  strongly  ixj 


the  case  of  those  who  die  unconsciously  in  a 
swoon;  sometimes  very  strongly  with  the  sick, 
whose  pulse  is  almost  gone,  and  whose  breath  can 
scarcely  be  felt.  And  of  these  no  one  may  say 
that,  on  account  of  this,  their  soul  passed  away 
in  secret,  and  was  estranged  from  God.  Omnip- 
otence and  grace  are  able  to  do  in  holy  secrecy 
what  can  not  be  observed  by  human  eye  or  ear. 
The  consciousness  of  him  who  died  depended 
from  the  nature  of  the  case  upon  the  strength 
that  still  operated  in  his  brain.  But  suppose  the 
brain  refused,  should  the  inner  life  of  the  soul 
on  this  account  be  deprived  of  grace?  Presently 
the  brain  shall  refuse  to  function  altogether,  when 
without  a  clouded  mind  the  soul  shall  know  and 
glorify  God.  "To  be  near  unto  God"  in  dying,  even 
if  not  discerned  by  any  outside  person  is  nothing 
else  than  already  an  entrance  here  in  part  upon 
that  which  after  death  becomes  altogether  and 
wholly  so;  the  beginning  of  the  new  condition, 
when  separated  from  the  body,  entirely  incor- 
poreal, our  person  is  and  companies  with  God. 

But  apart  from  this,  while  we  continue  our 
pilgrim  journey  on  earth,  the  Divine  ministries  in 
behalf  of  the  dying  are  deeply  significant  to  us 
as  a  memento  mori.  This  is  what  Asaph's  mes- 
sage implied:  ''Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but 
Thee?"  (Ps.73:25).  By  itself  this  means  to  know 
nothing  in  heaven  but  God.  which  is  quite  the 
same  as  to  love  God  with  all  the  mind  and  soul 
and  heart.  But  Asaph's  question  puts  the  matter 
still  more  clearly  before  us.  The  struggle  of  our 
heart  on  earth  is,  that  it  goes  out  after  all  sorts  of 
things,  including  God.  This  struggle  is  laid  upon 
us,  inasmuch  as  God  himself  has  related  our  heart 

603 


to  all  sorts  of  persons  on  earth,  and  has  endowed 
it  with  powers  to  appreciate  the  glories  of  nature, 
and  has  imparted  all  sorts  of  inclinations  and  call- 
ings to  us,  which  go  out  after  visible  things.  The 
Stylist  who  withdraws  his  ej'es  from  all  earthly 
things,  so  that  with  nothing  about  him  but  air 
he  might  seek  after  God,  evades  the  struggle  and 
becomes  unnatural.  The  holy  art  of  the  child 
of  God  is  to  possess  things  that  are  seen  and 
handled  in  such  a  way,  that  he  can  truly  say,  that 
nothing  on  earth  pleases  him  but  God.  This  only 
means  to  say,  that  he  only  regards  all  visible 
things  as  things  which  are  of  God,  and  exist  for 
the  sake  of  God,  and  must  serve  God.  Thus  his 
pleasure  in  God  embraces  and  includes  all  these 
other  things.  But  in  such  a  way  that  they  are 
only  considered  insofar  as  they  are  subjected  to 
God,  and  as  they  reveal  his  Divine  power. 

Whether  in  deed  and  in  truth  this  is  the  case 
with  us,  becomes  evident  only  in  dying.  For 
then  all  these  things  fall  away  from  us,  and  God 
alone  remains.  It  has  been  tried  to  transfer 
earthly  desires  into  heaven,  by  picturing  all  sorts 
of  other  persons  and  means  of  enjoyment  there 
by  the  side  of  God.  Mohammedans  go  farthest 
in  this.  But  among  Christians  not  a  few  regard 
heaven  first  of  all  in  connection  with  their  own 
dead,  that  there  they  might  resume  with  them 
the  former  life.  Thus  even  in  heaven  they  imagine 
a  whole  world  again  by  the  side  of  God.  This 
confuses  the  spirits.  For  he  alone  who  in  dying 
expects  nothing  in  heaven  but  God,  shall  also  find 
in  the  Fatherhouse,  through  and  under  God,  that 
other   holy   fellowship.     But   this   shall   have   no 

604 


other  purport  than  the  better  to  glorify  the  God 
and  Father  of  all  in  Christ. 

This  same  thing  must  here  be  applied  to  our 
secret  walk  with  God.  We  must  frequently  ask 
ourselves:  If  you  had  nothing,  absolutely  noth- 
ing aside  from  God,  would  your  soul  be  perfectly 
satisfied?  When  you  seek  and  endeavor  and 
strive  to  be  near  unto  God,  is  it  that  you  might 
rest  in  him  with  all  your  heart,  or  is  it  perhaps 
merely  that  you  might  find  in  him  the  helper, 
who  can  give  you  all  sorts  of  other  desired  things 
after  which  your  heart  goes  out  really  the  more 
stronglj'^?  Let  no  one  complain  that  he  who  has 
God  and  him  alone,  has  nothing  but  God.  For 
he  who  has  God  in  him  has  everything.  But  that 
3'ou  might  test  the  sincerity  of  your  own  personal 
piety,  you  should  know  for  yourself  whether  you 
are  so  concerned  about  God,  that  though  all  other 
things  are  added,  you  are  intent  upon  him  alone. 
Or,  whether  your  heart  really  seeks  the  other 
things,  and  in  addition  to  them  God,  through 
whose  help  you  might  obtain  them  the  more 
surely.  Or  finally,  whether  you  want  to  become 
a  partaker  of  God  and  with  him  of  the  other 
things? 

And  in  behalf  of  this  test,  anticipation  of  the 
hour  of  death  has  uncommon  value.  That  you 
imagine  to  yourself  the  moment  when  everything 
on  earth  shall  fall  away  from  you,  and  as  far  as 
you  are  concerned,  shall  cease  to  exist.  That 
whether,  when  you  enter  upon  the  thought  that 
you  will  have  nothing  in  heaven  forever  but  the 
Triune  God,  it  lifts  your  heart  up  to  the  highest 
foretaste  of  holy  joy,  in  the  sense  that  in  all 
honesty  you  can  say  that  it  is  good  for  you  "to 
605 


be  near  unto  God",  because  you  have  nothing 
beside  him  in  heaven,  and  because  you  desire 
nothing  beside  him  on  earth,  all  the  days  of 
your  pilgrim  journey  that  still  remain. 

110 

"AS  THE  HART  PANTETH  AFTER  THE 
WATER  BROOKS." 

More  than  twenty  centuries  have  not  been  able 
to  darken  the  golden  glow  of  the  immortal  song 
that  has  come  to  us  in  Psalm  42.  And  with  all 
the  bitter  estrangement  from  God  that  character- 
izes human  life,  the  priests  of  art  still  unite  with 
the  redeemed  of  the  Lord  in  giving  the  song  of 
"The  hart  that  panteth  after  the  water-brooks" 
a  place  which  is  far  above  every  other  l)Tic  that 
voices  the  deep  longing  of  the  human  heart  after 
the  fountain  of  all  blessing.  The  passion  that 
thrills  in  this  Psalm,  the  enthusiasm  that  breathes 
in  this  glorious  song  is  striking.  Our  most  blessed 
experience  is  "To  be  near  unto  God."  And  in  the 
face  of  distraction  and  temptation,  our  fainting 
soul  can  turn  away  from  the  world  unto  God,  in- 
asmuch as  a  voice  whispers  within  that  he  who 
forsakes  God  robs  his  own  heart  of  peace. 

We  have  often  turned  to  God  and  have  knocked 
at  the  door,  to  be  admitted  again  to  the  secret 
walk  with  God,  after  we  had  made  the  discovery 
in  hours  or  days  of  wandering,  that  the  joy  of  the 
world  is  vain  and  that  its  glory  is  deceptive.  At 
another  time  we  have,  as  it  were,  allowed  our 
heart  to  be  taken  to  God  by  one  who  "holy  and 
humble  of  heart"  allured  us  back  to  God.  At 
another  time  again,  either  a  wounded  heart  or 

606 


some  great  anxiety,  or  want  in  which  we  almost 
perished,  impelled  us  to  seek  aid  and  comfort  with 
God  in  his  holy  nearness.  The  paths  by  which 
the  heart  comes  to  God  wind  themselves  through 
all  the  parts  of  our  life.  And  however  often  they 
are  abandoned,  these  paths  every  time  disclose 
themselves  anew.  But  in  all  this  there  is  no  play 
of  sacred  ardor.  In  such  moments  if  left  to  itself 
the  heart  would  rather  not  incline  toward  God. 
And  it  is  either  an  inward  necessity  or  a  stimulus 
from  without,  that  drives  the  half-unwilling  and 
self-suflBcient  heart  to  God. 

But  in  this  Psalm  the  heart  drives  itself.  Irre- 
sistible longing  after  the  living  God  arises  not 
from  without,  but  from  within  the  heart  itself. 
It  is  not  from  an  accidental  circumstance,  not  from 
a  cause  which  operates  from  elsewhere,  not  from 
the  promptings  of  conscience,  not  from  urgency 
of  need,  neither  from  prudence  nor  calculation, 
but  from  the  new  nature  itself,  from  the  regen- 
erated nature  of  the  heart,  that  the  longing  after 
God,  the  sense  of  inability  to  do  without  God, 
the  impetuous  hastening  after  the  living  God, 
springs.  Even  Augustin's  exclamation:  "My  heart 
is  restless,  till  it  rests  in  thee,"  pales  before  this 
fervor.  For  here  it  is  thirsting.  Here  it  is  thirst- 
ing after  the  living  God,  even  as  a  man  or  a  brute, 
whose  blood  through  exhaustion  is  dried  up,  not 
merely  calls  for  moisture,  but  cries  out  aloud  for 
the  same,  as  far  as  the  parched  palate  and  husky 
throat  still  allow  this  to  be  done  with  audible 
sound.  The  figure  is  borrowed  from  the  animal- 
world,  where  mention  is  impossible  of  a  moment's 
consideration,  pious  purport  or  intentional  call- 
ing.    From  the  hart,  which  exhausted  and  dis- 

607 


abled  cries  as  in  despair,  because  having  at  last 
reached  the  stream-bed  finds  that  there  is  no 
water  there,  and  which  now,  from  the  mere 
impulse  of  nature,  because  it  is  ready  to  suc- 
cumb, and  is  unable  longer  to  go  without  drink, 
breaks  the  air  with  its  desperate  cry  for  water 
in  the  dried-up  bedding;  because  presently  it  must 
faint  if  water  does  not  come. 

This  impulse  of  nature,  this  passionate  desire, 
this  almost  dying  of  thirst  after  God  on  the  part 
of  the  soul,  this  consuming  longing  after  the  living 
God,  is  the  exalted,  striking,  enchanting  char- 
acter of  this  Psalm,  which  at  the  same  time  puts 
us  to  shame.  For  how  many  have  been  the 
moments  in  your  life  when,  without  the  pressure 
of  need,  or  solicitation  from  another,  or  sting  of 
conscience,  from  a  purely  natural  impulse  of  soul 
you  have  thirsted  after  the  living  God?  You  feel 
and  appreciate,  in  listening  to  these  moving  tones, 
in  singing  yourself  this  glorious  song,  that  not  only 
at  times,  but  always,  this  ought  to  be  the  state 
of  the  heart;  that  God  created  you  for  this  pur- 
pose; that  his  plan  concerning  you  intended  such 
glorious  longing  in  you  after  God;  that  every 
time  this  plan  ceased  to  operate  in  you,  you  fell 
from  the  heights  of  your  nature;  and  that  you 
sin  against  grace,  when  at  least  in  your  reborn 
nature  this  pressure,  this  thirst,  this  intense  long- 
ing for  the  living  God  can  be  silent. 

As  through  exhaustion  blood  cries  for  water, 
and  utterly  fails  unless  relieved,  so  we  have  re- 
ceived a  nature  from  God  which,  normal  and 
unhurt,  must  cry  after  God  or  faint.  Piety  which 
at  times  imagined  that  it  already  stood  strong 
and  secure,  here  feels  itself  sink  away,  because  it 

608 


has  so  seldom  attained  unto  this  passion,  this 
consuming  longing  after  God.  It  is  your  holy 
exaltation,  a  solemn  seal  upon  your  human  nobility, 
that  your  nature  has  so  been  created  that  such 
may  be  the  case  and  can  be.  It  is  at  the  same 
time  a  deep  humiliation  that  this  nobility  of 
higher  origin  so  rarely  exhibits  itself  in  the  full- 
ness of  its  strength.  But  it  is  also  a  stimulus 
which  leaves  you  no  rest,  which  makes  you  turn 
in  upon  yourself  and  think,  and  which,  under 
these  changing  perceptions,  makes  the  thirst  after 
the  living  God  to  be  felt,  and  as  soon  as  it  is  felt, 
makes  its  quenching  to  be  experienced  in  0,  such 
a  blessed  way,  because  God  draws  near  unto  your 
soul. 

"So  panteth  my  soul  after  Thee,  0  God. 
My  soul  thirsteth  for  God,  for  the  living  God." 
That  'iiving"  also  is  here  an  image  of  nature. 
There  is  stagnant  water,  which  is  dead,  and  be- 
comes marshy  and  poisonous,  and  is  unfit  to  re- 
fresh man  and  animal.  The  hart  therefore  panteth 
not  merely  after  water,  but  after  the  water- 
brooks,  i.  e.  after  the  fresh,  murmuring,  flowing 
water  that  lives.  *'And  thus,"  says  the  Psalmist, 
"panteth  my  soul,  yea  thirsts  my  soul  after  the 
living  God."  Not  merely  after  a  confession  of 
God,  not  merely  after  a  representation  of  God, 
not  merely  after  a  reminder  of  God,  not  even 
after  a  Divine  majesty,  which  far  removed  from 
the  soul  stands  before  it  as  a  God  in  words  or  in 
phrases,  but  after  God  himself,  after  God  in  his 
holy  outpouring  of  power  and  grace,  after  God 
who  lives,  after  God  who  in  his  life  inclines  him- 
self toward  you,  who  with  his  life  pervades  you, 


and  who  in  holy  manifestations  of  love  reveals 
himself  to  you,  and  in  you,  as  the  living  God. 

You  realize  that  here  all  learning  falls  away; 
all  dogma,  all  formularies,  everything  that  is  ex- 
ternal and  abstract;  everything  that  translates 
itself  into  words,  that  in  the  word  it  may  dry  up 
and  wither.  It  is  not  your  idea,  not  your  under- 
standing, not  your  thinking,  not  your  reasoning, 
not  even  your  confession,  that  can  quench  this 
thirst.  This  ardent  longing  goes  out  after  God 
himself,  until  in  your  soul's  transport  of  love,  you 
feel  in  your  own  heart  the  warmth  of  the  Father- 
heart  of  God.  It  is  not  the  name  of  God,  but  God 
himself  whom  the  soul  thirsts  after,  and  of  whom 
it  can  not  bear  to  be  deprived;  God  himself  in 
the  outshining  of  his  life.  And  this  outshining  of 
his  life  must  permeate  you.  It  must  be  assimi- 
lated in  the  blood  of  your  soul. 

The  Psalmist  sought  this  in  the  Sanctuary.  He 
was  from  Israel.  And  in  Israel  the  clear,  rich, 
full  enjoyment  of  God's  presence  was  confined 
to  Zion.  God  had  chosen  Zion  as  the  place  where 
he  would  give  himself  to  be  enjoyed  in  this  full- 
ness by  his  people.  At  that  time  the  life  of  the 
world  drew  itself  too  mightily  away  from  God. 
Idol  upon  idol  filled  the  world.  And  therefore 
the  presence  of  the  Lord  was  symbolically  cen- 
tered between  the  cherubim  on  Zion.  To  trans- 
fer this  to  the  congregations  in  church-buildings 
in  our  behalf  is  to  cut  the  nerve  of  this  Psalm. 
For  though  there  is  indeed  much  in  our  sanctu- 
aries that  draws  us  to  God,  and  much  in  the 
world  and  even  in  our  homes  that  draws  us  away 
from  God,  this  again  would  prove  itself  to  be 
the  stimulus  from  without.    And  what  this  Psalm 

610 


intends,  is  thirst  in  the  heart  itself,  which  from 
the  blood  of  the  soul  cries  after  God, 

Zion  is  not  your  prayer  cell.  Zion  is  not  your 
church  building.  Zion  is  not  even  your  Christian 
association.  What  Israel  found  on  Zion  symboli- 
cally is  for  us  reality  in  Christ;  in  your  Vindi- 
cator and  King,  himself  God,  to  whom  be  glory 
both  now  and  forever,  Amen. 

He  who  is  redeemed  is  in  Christ,  and  Christ  is 
in  him.  As  living  member  he  has  wonderfully  been 
incorporated  in  the  mystical  body  of  Christ.  His 
regenerated  nature  has  most  intimately  become 
one  with  Christ,  and  in  this  mystical  life  with 
Christ  alone,  the  heart  that  thirsts  after  God, 
drinks  in  the  life  from  God,  And  therefor  "'to  be 
near  unto  God,  *'yea.  the  drinking  in  of  the  life  of 
God  with  all  the  passion,  all  the  thirst  of  our 
soul,  is  not  bound  for  us  to  any  place,  to  no 
presence  of  others,  to  no  day,  to  no  altar  and  to 
no  priest.  Every  place,  wheresoever,  can  at  any 
moment  become  a  Zion  to  us.  It  but  depends  on 
this  one  thing:  that  God  is  approached  in  him  in 
whom  alone  there  is  access,  and  who  ever  iiveth 
to  make  intercession  for  us  (Hebr.  7:25). 


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DATE  DUE 

1 

1 

1 

DEMCO  38-297 

